Troika
by Mortissues
Summary: Waking up, not matter how long it takes, should be a wonderful thing. Powerful and liberating. Like emerging from the chrysalis. I should have known it wouldn't be like that for me . . .
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for all the usual reasons. **

**Prologue**

**BPOV**

Ah, peace and quiet.

And wine.

Bella's 'Happy Time', also known as 'Wallowing' night.

Freya's at her dad's and I have nothing to worry about but me and what I want. Hence the wallowing.

She'll be going away to college soon and everyone keeps telling me I'm still young enough to have a life of my own and that I ought to start thinking about how I'm going to live it. _Great_.

I've held the deep seated belief that I'm _old_ and my _life_ is over for such a long time it's very difficult to get my head around the fact that at thirty six, everyone else, even my daughter, considers me young. I've my reasons, solidified over the years by being a Mom and therefore responsible for someone else, but even I'm starting to see they might be right. I don't feel old, I feel _paused_.

Disappointed, as _my_ Mom put it, at an early age, my life could have gone in any number of directions. I very nearly went for catatonic and withdrawn, I was for a while. But when she dragged me, kicking and screaming, from my rainy then home town and pushed me bodily into the sparkling sunlight of Florida something in me woke up and came to life. I went off the rails. _Completely_. I'd always been a model of selfless good behaviour previously, a dutiful daughter to my divorced parents, a diligent if not spectacular student. But for a brief, yet glorious, period in time I became a wild child. An act of rebellion and human fallibility the cause never got to see. I drank. I smoked. I skipped school. I went to parties and I fornicated myself insensible. I even tried drugs, but thank god the first time made me so violently sick I was never tempted again.

I knew why I was doing it, what I was getting out of it, I even knew it was a recipe for disaster, but for a brief moment in time I _really_ didn't give a shit.

It all came to a screeching halt when I realised I was pregnant. Sobering, figuratively _and_ literally.

Opinion, and me, were divided over what to do about it but in the end, despite the obvious difficulties ahead, and the ironies behind, I decided that having a child and being a Mom was what I needed to do. And I'll be honest there was an element of the desire to be loved and part of something bigger than just me. Hey, I was only eighteen and far more naïve than I would have admitted to. They possibly weren't the best reasons for the decision that turned out to be the best one I've ever made.

Of course I was _lucky_, for once. Mom surprised me with how supportive she was and Freya's father, Dan, amazed me even more by not running, screaming, into the sunset.

Dan Monroe was captain of the football team. The physical and intellectual opposite of he who shall not be named. Warm, strong, open, carnal, alive. He and I weren't exactly dating, nothing that romantic, but we liked each other, we were kind of friends and he always seemed to end up on top of me and _in_ me at parties, to the exclusion of all others. His enthusiasm for it was manna for my soul.

When disaster struck he didn't pretend we were in love, he didn't bawl and shout or rue his ruined future. He didn't abandon me. He just manned up and asked me to marry him. I declined, nevertheless impressed, and so began an unlikely but so far lifelong friendship.

Sans a wife he didn't want anyway Dan went off and made good of himself at college and after a year I followed him, Freya and I setting up home a few blocks from Campus. He worked, I worked and together we managed to create a family life for our daughter. Unorthodox but eminently workable. Life did get easier. He's an extremely well known and well regarded environmental lawyer now and Freya and I want for nothing. He even helped me to take a few classes and get a rewarding, if somewhat less glamorous, career for myself.

Our weird little world wasn't even disturbed when he met Cath, she slotted right in and soon they started pushing out little Monroe's of their own. Freya's not keen on her utterly gorgeous siblings or 'The Alots' as she calls them. Cries a lot, Poops a lot and the eldest, Asks a lot, he's well into the '_why_' stage and Freya's his favourite questionee. I love them. Partly because they're not mine and can be handed back when they become obstreperous. I love Freya with all my heart but I was right all those years ago when I said I wasn't bothered about having a family, I've never been tempted to have another 'bundle of joy' of my own.

Which brings me neatly back to where I started. My one and only bundle is now six foot tall, the freak, and about to fly the nest, so what am _I_ going to do?

I've got a job and friends I like, I don't feel the need to change any of that just because Freya's off to college. I'm pretty sure I'm not going to want to take up extreme sports, I'm much less clumsy than I was but still _interestingly_ accident prone. There are a few hobbies I've been tempted to try, places I've thought about visiting, I can do all of that I suppose.

With a sigh I lean forward and top up my wine glass.

I think, what I'm really ready for, after all this time is a bit of fun, romance, possibly love? And sex, definitely sex . . . .

**A/N So, we're off. Please let me know what you think because you know how much I appreciate it.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 1 Three Caves & You're Out**

**BPOV**

Wine fuelled decisions are one thing. Putting them into practise is another entirely.

Every Monday morning, as part of the post weekend catch-up, my friend Bren asks me if I've managed to re-animate myself into a normal woman with a social life over the two day break.

The answer is always an annoyed 'no' and raging blush.

It was three weeks post vino breakthrough before I managed to squeak out that I was, possibly, ready to date.

I'd like to report that there was a suitably decorous pause before she swung into action but sadly there wasn't. She'd been so sure I'd cave eventually she had a well maintained list of options ready for my perusal.

I've always suspected I was drawn to her by her resemblance to my former best friend. Let's just say my suspicions were confirmed that Monday.

Not only was she ready with _who_ I should 'date' but she'd already picked out my outfit.

The only saving grace was that I at least knew him. Office supplies. Moderately good looking. A bit paunchy round the middle. More nervous than I was. Kept staring at my barely there cleavage when we ran out of things to say and since I never have much to say it was, _awkward_.

Next up, double date with her and her boyfriend Ted.

I like Ted, he's funny and not cleavage obsessed.

His friend Steve must have complimented him in some way, possibly by being not remotely funny no matter how hard he tried, and by being so obsessed with my chest he practically took a nose dive into it.

He was also a bit 'doughy' in the middle section.

A harsh judgement considering my own, less than flat, stomach. But there you go, it is what it is.

It was the warm, fleshy, formless lips that did it though. Yeah. I kissed him. I knew it was a mistake but you've got to start somewhere right?

I got a lecture from Bren after he reported back.

Attractive woman. Hot body. Young enough to be 'bangable'. Sneering at people who've kissed her, not so attractive.

I apologised for sneering and promised to do better.

I also declined the next two proffered dates.

Eventually I caved and went out with Gary.

Tall, good looking, well built. Enormously well-developed ego. You couldn't have paid me to kiss him if my life depended on it. He was _awful_. And apparently I'm frigid.

I don't know how you go about finding a man for fun, romance and sex, but clearly Bren, for all her sterling qualities as a friend, hasn't got a clue either.

…..

I'm in Forks to visit Charlie. Freya and the Clan Monroe have gone to Lake Placid for the long weekend, much to her disgust.

I don't like coming here.

There are several reasons.

The memories aren't great, neither the ones from my childhood after my parents split up, nor the brief ones from my teenage years. I can't stay at Charlie's, instead I've been trying out every rentable room in a commutable radius over the years. He doesn't question it, I love that about him, and we've got our own understandings of why I do it. The real reason would probably give the poor man heart failure anyway.

I also can't stand the dank dark oppression of the forest. I never did like cold wet things but getting lost in it like I did was a metaphorical nail in the coffin.

And it feels like a coffin here, no matter how much I once didn't want to leave.

It's a normal weekend. He fishes. I cook. He watches TV and I brood on my memories. He finally notices and gives me a fatherly pep talk on living my life and not re-living my past and then he goes to bed and I drive back to my room that's not 'there'. I'm such an avoider that I won't even go upstairs if I can get out of it.

…..

"Freya!"

She's home.

I know she's home because her luggage is abandoned, leaking, in the hallway, like the fallout from a nuclear detonation.

"Freya!"

One. Two. Three.

"Freya Monroe. Get your ass down here and clean up this mess. I am not your maid!"

"Sorry Mom." A voice floats down the stairs. "I was just catching up."

"Catch up tomorrow at school." I holler back, lugging my own suitcase into the laundry room. Leadership by example and all that, even though I'd dearly like to collapse on the couch for an hour or two.

I've halfway sorted my clothes when my daughter skips into the room and tosses hers haphazardly onto the floor, erasing my work.

"Are you going to sort those out?"

"If you make me." She laughs, hoisting herself up onto the dryer. "So, how was Gramps?"

"Gramp like." I huff, sorting her laundry with my own.

"Did he say anything about coming for Thanksgiving?"

"He was noncommittal." I inform her.

We both snort together. Charlie's visits here can be counted on a two fingered hand, without using all the digits.

Then she tosses her long golden hair back over her shoulder.

I've often wondered if there was a mix up with the babies in the hospital, this blonde, athletic, amazon with an overabundance of confidence can't possibly be the fruit of my womb. Yet my brown eyes, pale skin, lip biting habit and rabid blush say she is. How anyone who oozes the self-possession she does can blush I don't know . . . .

"Mom!"

Her shout grabs my attention and I look up, glaring at her.

"Sorry." She shrugs, looking anything but. "You zoned out on me."

"Humph."

"I asked if Renee was still coming."

"Ah."

Like me she has trouble with titles for my Mom. Nothing really fits her. She is Renee. A slightly demented, but well meaning, force of nature. Who isn't coming for the Holiday.

"No. Phil's surprised her with a cruise, they'll be away."

Her eyes narrow.

Did I mention she's quite astute? Renee's the one who booked the surprise, because she forgot she'd promised they'd visit with us.

"Just you and me again?" I offer.

"I suppose." And now she's grumpy.

"You know we can go to your Dad's, we're always welcome."

"I know." She huffs, relaxing slightly. "But Thanksgiving's always _our_ holiday."

And now she's turned me into mush.

_And _diverted my attention from the fact that I'm slaving away sorting _her_ laundry.

Shaking my head at my own gullibility I carry on while she saunters into the kitchen to make herself a snack and regale me with what she regarded as the non joys of Lake Placid.

It actually sounded like fun.

Maybe I should find something more entertaining to do next time I have a child free weekend. And then comes the guilt. I'm the only family Charlie's got, it would be massively selfish to go off gallivanting when I could be spending time with him.

Eventually I hustle Freya up to bed and flop down on the sofa, the housework can wait until tomorrow, Forks isn't exactly a short trip and I'm exhausted . . . .

…..

It's getting late.

"Freya!" I yell up the stairs.

Nothing.

"Freya. If you don't get up now I'm coming up with the plant spritzer! You'll be late for school . . . ."

One. Two. Three.

Thump.

Thump.

Pause.

"I'm up!"

Pause.

Thump, thump, thump, thump . . . . bang!

She's up and in the bathroom. Step one is complete.

Turning away I manage to get one eye made up in the hallway mirror before I remember I haven't started the waffle iron. I don't know if the smell really does entice her downstairs but it's an established part of our morning ritual and the superstitious in me is loath to test it.

I'm topping up my coffee and tipping the waffles onto a plate when she breezes in, dumping her bag on the counter, accepting the proffered breakfast and settling herself at the table, remote in hand, ready to channel hop.

Step two is complete.

"So what's on this week?" I ask as I start clearing up and chucking my daily essentials into my purse.

"School. Maisie's tomorrow night for our Science Project. Dad's on Wednesday, I might stay over Friday night too, Cath's promised to pay me for babysitting. The rest is open to deserving options."

"A-huh." I know all this, it's just part of our routine.

And I'm half listening as she launches into the High School gossip. I know she's my daughter, and I do care, but not much more than I did when it was me going through the experience.

"So yeah, they haven't really spoken to anyone yet and we're all dying to find out more about them."

New kids. Always the shiny new toys, even in a school as big as Freya's.

"Obviously as rich as Croesus."

Yep. That always gets everyone's attention.

"So good looking."

Really? It wasn't long ago you thought Justin Bieber was good looking. You poor misguided child . . . .

"Maisie's sure Grant is going to ask her to the dance."

Ah. Dances. I hated them. Freya's much less of a chicken though. And a lot less clumsy.

"Isn't he the one with acne?"

"Mom!" I'm chastised. "He's growing out of it, don't be so judgemental, he's basically a good looking guy. And really sweet. With great hair."

I can't remember what sort of hair constitutes 'great' these days but I'm pretty sure my opinion, and experience, won't count, so I keep quiet.

"His is amazing."

"Is anyone going to ask you to the dance?"

"Mom!"

"Well?" I ask, turning to face her and leaning back against the counter with my arms folded.

She blushes and looks back at the TV, a report on soaring agricultural costs, a subject which interests her deeply. Not.

"No one I want to." She mutters under the weight of my stare.

"And who do you want to?" I press.

"Brad Pitt. Obviously."

Ah. Snark.

"Fine. Don't tell me. It's not like I'm gonna put it on Facebook."

"Hardly." She laughs, jumping up and grabbing her bag. "You don't even have an account."

"I've got connections." I threaten as she leans down to kiss my cheek.

Yep. My eighteen year old daughter has to lean down to kiss me. I blame her Father, stupid jock.

"Sure Mom."

And she's gone.

Slamming the front door violently behind her.

Step three is complete.

I guess we're about due getting Dan over to screw the number back onto it again . . . .

…..

I'm idly perusing Caribbean cruise options for single old ladies when Bren finds me at lunch.

"You only got one eye again." She observes, pulling a spare chair up to my desk and breaking open a packet of M&Ms between us.

"Shit." I groan, reaching under the desk for my purse and banging my forehead on it in the process.

"Ow. Shit!" I gasp, sitting up, my compact and mirror forgotten.

"Nice language." Our colleague Jeff observes as he strolls past my cubicle.

"So." Bren begins as I stuff an M&M in my mouth. "Dating. We need to move on with your personal development goals."

"Which are?"

"Well, you stated, fun, romance and – ahem – sex."

Cue blush.

"But frankly I think we might have bitten off more than we can chew at this stage."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, my lovely Bella, that we need to get you through a date without your sneers and unreasonably high expectations shooting the datee down in flames."

"I don't . . . ."

"Yeah, hun, you do."

"I only want intelligent, good looking, gentlemanly and not wobbly. Surely that's not too much to ask?"

"Bells, baby, what did you date in High School, characters from romance novels?" She pauses to pop her own M&M in. "No, scratch that, I've met Dan and that man is _hawt_. Phew!"

I roll my eyes.

"So." She continues thoughtfully. "I'm gonna come right out and say that I don't know anyone else that good looking, intelligent and all round fine, to hook you up with."

"Okay." I respond carefully.

"So we're gonna have to broaden the pool by getting you out of the house." She states firmly.

"Um?"

"Out Bella. Out, out. To bars, clubs and other terrifying mechanisms for engaging the opposite sex."

"Um, no?"

"Friday. I already know Freya's at Dan and Cath's."

"How?"

"Facebook, you really need to try it you know."

"Bren, you know I hate . . . ."

"I do. I really do. But how else are you gonna meet a man?"

"I could take up spinning, or something . . . ."

Her dark eyes bore into mine and I cave.

…..

Well that was every bit as mortifying as I thought it would be.

I danced. Badly. I drank far too much, which is why my bedroom is now spinning crazily around my bed. My ears are still ringing from the loudness of the music and my throat is aching from all the shouting I had to do to even have the most basic interaction with Bren and our friend Lucia. I got felt up so many times I'm not sure Bren hadn't put a sign inviting it on my ass while I wasn't looking.

But as far as advancing my goals goes there wasn't a man in that club I would have spat on if he was on fire, let alone dated.

Maybe I'm broken? Or maybe I'm expecting too much and shouldn't be trying to get back on a horse I only rode once, without the aid of a mounting block. Perhaps there's even a site on the web for people like me. Failed to date properly in High School dot com. Burdened with unrealistic expectations dot com. Unfeasibly late starters dot . . . . whatever.

Lucia managed to indicate that I should consider buying a vibrator. And maybe I would, by post, if I knew what the hell to do with the thing when it got here . . . .

I feel sick . . . .

I'm not much of a drinker . . . .

"Oooo . . . . _god_ . . . ."

Rolling off the bed I crawl into the bathroom on my hands and knees to hug the toilet like it's my best friend in the whole wide world.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 2 Grumpy People**

**BPOV**

I was much better by the time Freya made it home mid Saturday afternoon but not having had a hangover since finishing out High School in Florida it was a while before I was convinced I wasn't going to die.

And, having dissected my night out with my daughter, we've decided there's nothing wrong with me, I'm just not one of the 'party people'. She thinks I'm more likely to find the man for me in a reading group than a nightclub and I have to say she's probably right. In a month or two I might actually look.

We had a normal weekend. Shopping for groceries, haggling over the chores, eating popcorn and watching movies. Taking the 'A Lots' to the park and feeding them junk food, before handing them back to their prematurely relaxed looking parents. She did her homework and I toyed around with some ideas for work then painted her toe nails.

We parted company at the top of the stairs on Sunday night with a warm hug.

…..

"Freya! So help me, get up or I'll . . . ."

"I'm up, I'm up!"

Liar.

"Get out of bed!"

One. Two. Three.

Thump.

Thump.

Pause.

"I'm up!"

Pause.

Thump, thump, thump, thump . . . . bang!

Some routines, they really suck . . . . and if I start with the left eye maybe the gods will smile on me and I can get both done . . . .

"Dammit!"

The waffle iron is toast, there's probably a joke there somewhere, but the batter is definitely more unappetizing puddle than breakfast.

And apparently superstition is bunkum, because as I start rifling the cupboards for cereal Freya breezes into the room, remote already in hand, the other held out expectantly.

"No waffles."

"What?!"

"Iron's not heating up."

"Well, shi-oot." She huffs, flopping into a chair.

"Cereal?"

She eyes the box in my hand like I've just offered her rat poison.

"You ate it yesterday." I point out.

"I'll go without." She says with a martyred sigh, turning her attention to the TV.

Fine. You do that. Solidarity with the starving millions in Africa.

Leaning over I flick the power off at the wall and her wide eyed, annoyed, attention returns to me.

My eyebrow goes up, it may or may not be the one with eye shadow under it.

We stare at each other for a moment.

She blushes and averts her eyes.

"Sorry Mom, cereal is fine. Thank you."

"I'll just make it for you then, shall I?"

What can I say, I'm not _good_ in the mornings, though I used to be.

I dump the box on the counter, immediately feeling guilty.

"Shall we start again?"

"Is there enough for both of us?" She asks, jumping up and inspecting the interior.

"We'll manage."

…..

"So what's on this week?"

"Maisie and I are gonna work on our project tonight because her Mom's offered to drive us to Berto's and pick us up Tuesday night."

I nod. Berto's is a traditional diner in town. The kids own it during the week and us grown-ups claim it back Saturday and Sunday. Alberto himself is older, so the music he plays then doesn't really remind me of anything, I love the place. And his burgers.

"Group of you going?"

"Yep." She nods, shovelling in some more cereal. "The usual. Maisie's even gonna invite the new kids."

"The shiny ones?" I ask, curious.

"Mom." Freya snorts. "Where do you get these expressions from?"

"You knew who I meant." I shrug.

"Yeah. I don't think they'll come though, they didn't really mix very much all week, just kind of stuck together."

"It's difficult when you start a new school."

She looks at me sideways for a moment and then shrugs herself.

"I guess. Maybe they'll come, maybe not, I don't really care."

Interesting. Feigned nonchalance. Very un Freya like.

I open my mouth to call her on it but since my face is an open book she changes the subject deftly on to school related frippery which she knows will make my brain partially shut down. She's an observant child, damn her.

And I'm a sneaky parent. I'll get Cath to give her the third degree on Wednesday night. Two Moms are better than one we've found when it comes to Freya . . . .

…..

Fully made up this time I head into the city early and decide, since it unseasonably sunny, to stroll down the block and get some coffee before I chain myself to my cubicle for the day.

It's a complete mad house as usual. I can never understand why, it's not like it's even the only Starbucks on the block, they've planted one at each end, coffee traps for the energetically challenged. Unless, of course, there's been a sudden coffee shortage declared over night, I didn't actually see the news this morning so it could be true.

"Hey, lady, line's moving . . . ."

The exasperated voice behind me shakes me out of my worldwide coffee shortage fantasy, complete with urban wasteland patrolled by roving gangs, and I stammer an apology, blush, and shuffle obediently forward. One of these days I'm going to walk under a bus or something.

'Here Lies Bella Swan. Terminally Unable to Concentrate. And Single.'

Fuel in hand I saunter back toward my office building, window shopping , the only kind I like, and getting in everyone else's way.

What's the hurry? Where's the fire? What's the point of buying the coffee if you're going to sprint to work with it and slop it all down your front when you run into me taking my own sweet time?

"For fuck's sake!" A deep voice huffs behind me as the owner slams on the brakes at the last moment and collides gently with me.

"Sorry." I mutter, shrinking away and speeding up a bit.

"You know its called Rush Hour for a reason." The voice huffs, keeping pace with my left shoulder.

Jeez. You walked into me buddy.

I speed up a bit more.

"Aren't you even going to apologise?" The voice asks.

"For what?" I demand, refusing to turn around.

"I split my coffee." It complains.

"Did you spill it on me?" I ask.

"No."

"Good. Then we're done here. Have a nice day."

By now I'm practically running.

The voice, which is annoyingly still stalking me, turns into a deep rumbling chuckle.

"Well." It observes. "At least I got you travel at the speed the rest of us are using."

Stupid I know, but now I do stop and turn on him.

"What is your problem?" I hiss into the heavy jacket covering his broad chest.

No response.

Fine.

I'm out of here.

"Bella?" It asks incredulously.

My eyes snap up to his face.

A giant man with russet skin and over long, messy, black hair is staring at me, his handsome and vaguely familiar face wearing an expression of shock.

"Um?"

"Bella Swan?"

I nod, realisation dawning.

"Jacob?"

He nods, breaking into a smile that would probably stop traffic. If the drivers were all female.

"Jacob Black? Wow. When did you grow up to be such a jerk?_"_

"Ouch." He chuckles. "I guess I deserved that. I'm sorry. I've got an important meeting in a few minutes and I was, um, checking my emails and didn't see you."

Looking a bit shame faced he holds up his other hand and waggles his Blackberry at me.

Since our fathers are friends I resist the urge to roll my eyes at him.

And then, because he's still smiling, and it's that kind of smile, I smile back.

"I'm sorry." He says again in that rich deep voice. "I'm not usually this bad but I only got into town late last night and it's been a hell of a morning already."

"I didn't know you were in Pennsylvania, Charlie never said."

"Yeah well." He laughs, a rich deep sound, looking a bit shame faced. "My poor Dad's given up trying to keep up with where I am, the job keeps me travelling around a lot."

"Job?"

More shame face.

"I'm kind of a consultant."

"A Doctor?" I ask, still a bit stupefied by the fact that he's a bone fide grown up, I haven't seen him in years.

"Not quite." He laughs again, I like that sound already. "I'm a security consultant."

Cue my stupid face.

"I was in the Army, for a while, they, um, teach you stuff which can be useful in civilian life."

"They do?"

"Yeah, Bella, they do."

"Charlie never said . . . ."

Yeah, because my intelligence and coherent responses are all confined to what Charlie says . . . .

"Don't sweat it Bella. Billy never told me you were in Pennsylvania either. I think our Dads are more fish than child orientated."

Now it's my turn to laugh. That sounds about right.

"So how is Billy? Charlie didn't mention him much at the weekend."

"You don't know?"

Oh shit, he's not . . . . please tell me Charlie didn't forget to tell me that . . . .

"Nice blush." Jacob chuckles and I really want to punch him in the, massive, muscular, arm.

"Jacob!"

"They're not seeing eye to eye at the moment."

"Huh?"

"Remember Sue Clearwater?"

I nod.

"Her husband, Harry, he died of a massive heart attack a few years after you left town."

"Yeah, sad, I remember Charlie telling me."

Jacob nods, sober thoughts not entirely eradicating his smile.

"Well, Sue's kind of got used to the idea over time."

I nod, trying to make myself look supportive rather than avid for more information.

"And our Dads clearly have too."

Alright, I give up.

"I don't understand . . . ."

"Bella." He chuckles gently, reaching out to capture my elbow. "They aren't speaking right now. Two bachelors, one widow?"

"Oh. My. God." I splutter as realisation dawns. "Jacob, no!"

"Oh yes!" He laughs, winking at me. "Better deal with it. Charlie might win."

And the mental image of Charlie and Billy Black duking it out, police cruiser to wheelchair, over Sue Clearwater, brings abrupt and inappropriate tears of laughter to my eyes. Which sets Jacob off too.

Moments later I realise that we're leaning into each other in different sort of inappropriateness and manage to get a grip on my amusement, if not my blush.

"Sorry." I mumble, straightening out of his warm space.

"Don't be." He responds in a low voice.

I blink. My blush deepens. But I can't look away from his eyes. They're so . . . .

"Here." He says quietly, placing a card gently in my hands. "These are my numbers. I'm in town for a while. Call me, we can have dinner and catch up with all the gossip."

"Um."

His face falls a little.

"Unless of course there's a Mr Bella who wouldn't like it?"

"No, no, there isn't. I'd love to see you again, um . . . ."

"I'll call you then." He says, grinning and edging around me.

"How?" I demand. "You don't have my . . . ."

"Security consultant." He says with a wink, turning away and striding down the street on his long, long, legs.

I tuck the card into my pocket.

Jacob Black. The first boy I ever kissed.

Or, considering I'm a year or so older and attacked his five year old self, molested.

Boy did he turn out well . . . .

"You ain't street furniture lady, move your ass." Someone grumbles as they push past me.

Where was I?

Oh yes.

On my way to work.

…..

I managed to divert Bren from an inquisition on our night out by telling her I bumped into a childhood friend from Forks. She was so sufficiently unimpressed that she was easily diverted by Jeff's new tie, which is possibly the ugliest piece of neckwear I've ever laid eyes on, so that was probably fair enough. At least it meant I didn't have to tell her that he was good looking and may be taking me out to dinner.

Not that it would be a date, but still, I'm already more excited about the idea of _that_ than any next steps she might be dreaming up for fun, romance and - ahem – sex.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 3 Garlic Breath**

**BPOV**

Thursday morning I get to work to find an email from Cath, god bless her prying heart, a sort of State of the Union address on Freya's love life.

And I knew it.

She's far more interested in the new kids than she let on. Apparently one of them is the hottest thing since hotness was invented. Cath said she was cagey with the details but apparently she shares a couple of classes with him. She hasn't spoken to him yet but they've exchanged eye meets a time or two and she was bitterly disappointed that he and his siblings didn't show at Berto's on Tuesday night. Mike, why are the over eager ones always called Mike, is still pursuing her relentlessly, much to her disgust, and has even asked her to the dance. She was a bit rude about her refusal because hot new guy was within earshot and now feels bad about upsetting Mike.

Which is great because I'll probably get Mike's overprotective Mom on the phone giving me grief over it. God that woman drives me crazy. Years it's been going on. Freya pulled Mikey's hair. Freya pushed Mikey off the swing. My poor little Mikey is sensitive and it wasn't nice that your daughter laughed at his car, we're not made of money like some folk in this town. I just saw your daughter at the mall, did you know her skirt is more than six inches above her knee, is that a look you're encouraging?

Doesn't bother me, she has great legs, tell me Mrs Smalley, was your son there staring at them, like the little pervert we all know he is? Argh!

Oh well. Duty calls . . . .

…..

"Sorry Mom." She blushes, pulling her lip between her teeth. "I didn't mean to be rude to him, it's just I already told him no once and he asked me again right in front of . . . . other people."

I manage not to smirk.

"Twenty minutes Freya, she was on the phone for _twenty_ minutes."

"I'll make it up to you."

"How?"

"I'll do your nails and hair for your date tomorrow night."

"It is not a date Freya, its two old friends catching up."

"M-kay."

"What?" I huff.

"Saturday night Mom? Saturday night is couples night."

"Oh for the love of . . . ."

"You bought a new dress." She adds slyly.

"Fine. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Minx.

…..

"Alright." I mutter to myself as the front door bangs shut behind Freya who's staying at Maisie's tonight.

"It's not a date but at least you're not embarrassing yourself with your appearance. And there's no shame in having your daughter do your hair. None whatsoever."

"But, you should probably stop talking to yourself."

I nod at my reflection.

Okay. Good.

I don't know why I'm so nervous, we used to make mud pies together and we're probably just going to reminisce about our Dads. Hopefully it'll just be a nice night out, god knows I could do with one of those after the trauma of Bren's dates.

…..

Jacob, Jake as he likes to be called now, takes me to Berto's since he doesn't know the area and I said I like it.

He probably doesn't notice the curious stares as he follows the waitress and I to our booth, his large warm hand resting lightly on the small of my back. I do though.

Berto's attracts a loyal crowd and I know most of them, something I didn't consider when I recommended it.

Oh well.

He's got the same easy going nature I remember from when we were kids and it's not difficult to relax around him, even for me. And he's funny, really funny. His recap on everything that's happened in Forks since I left soon has me crying tears of laughter.

"I didn't know half that stuff." I admit finally.

"Yeah well, your Dad and mine, they're not the most talkative men in the world. I get all the gossip from Leah when I go back."

"How is she?"

"Teaching at the school on the Res."

"Are you blushing?"

"Maybe." He mutters, taking a swig of his beer.

"Is there history there Jake?" I ask him, curious and possibly a little jealous.

"Not the kind you mean." He says quietly.

"I'm sorry." I murmur. "I'm just being nosey."

"It's okay." He says, flashing me that winning smile. "It's just complicated. She wasn't happy, for a long time, and I don't think I helped."

"Alright." I smile back. "Tell me all about being a security consultant who can magic my work number out of thin air."

"Ah now." He laughs, twirling his beer bottle. "That was easy to do. The company that hired me is in the same building as yours, your name is on the board in Reception. I just didn't put two and two together until I bumped into you."

"No magic then?" I tease.

"Nope." He says, popping the 'p'. "Just plain old being observant."

"Are you going to tell me what you actually do?"

"If I told you then I'd have to kill you." He says with a smirk.

"Oh please." I mutter, rolling my eyes.

"Seriously Bella, it sounds more glamorous than it is, don't make me destroy the mystique I've got going on here."

"Am I supposed to think you're some kind of secret agent?" I scoff, spearing a garlic mushroom and waving it at him dismissively.

"Well now, that depends." His voice is low and quiet. "Do you think secret agents are sexy?"

I blink at him, the mushroom poised just in front of my lips. The ones he's starting at.

Mayday. This is not the little boy I used to play with. This is about six foot four of solid, well dressed, muscle. If he spends all day watching CCTV in the building's basement he's still going to be sexy.

"I'm sorry." He says, blinking, blushing and breaking the spell. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Um?" I enquire, lowering the mushroom to the plate.

He smiles, shaking his head and taking a swig of his beer.

"I don't normally harass innocent women on the street." He chuckles. "But you had such a cute ass I just couldn't resist it. And you're so beautiful I couldn't resist asking you out either. Now I feel dirty, what with us being childhood playmates and all."

Don't say um again. Don't say um again.

"Um?"

Dammit!

The waitress rescues me by coming for our plates and handing us the dessert menus.

"Say something Bella." He pleads softly.

"I don't know what to say." I respond honestly, my eyes fixed on the menu.

"Maybe you can tell me if this is a date or two old friends catching up."

My eyes creep up to find him still watching me intently.

I've thought about pretty much nothing but him since Monday. Butterflies rioting in my stomach every time. It took me four hours to pick out this dress because I was too chicken to ask Bren to help me, she thought I'd gone to the dentist. I'm wearing heels, proper ones. And I'd really, really, like him to kiss me. At least once. And I'm a grown up. I can woman up to this.

"Date." I admit finally, if a little squeakily.

Another blinding smile and the menu is tugged out of my useless hands which are then covered by his enormous ones, thumbs brushing against mine.

"Coffee." He tells the waitress when she returns. "So, Bella, tell me about you."

…..

There wasn't much to tell. If you'd asked me I would have assumed, thanks to the Dads, that he knew I had a daughter but nevertheless I felt a twinge of fear when I brought her up. We all know about middle aged women with baggage, don't we?

He did know and he denied either of us were middle aged. Confessing that he had no children of his own, only one ex-wife, currently in possession of his former home, and most of his money.

After that our conversion just flowed, the contact of our hands only being broken to sip our coffee. Eventually we even had dessert, sharing an ice cream bowl between us.

I was embarrassed when Berto himself came to throw us, the last of his customers, good naturedly, into the night.

Jake threw his arm around my shoulders as we walked back to his car, pulling me lightly into his side as he regaled me with sanitised stories of his Army days. And I floated along beside him, on a little cloud that was successfully masking the throbbing pain in my feet.

I felt immeasurably colder when he handed me up into his truck and settled himself in the driver's seat.

Conversation dried up then but the silence, broken only by my giving him directions back to my place, wasn't entirely uncomfortable. At least not until we're pulling up in front of my house. Now I realise I should have spent the drive thinking about what I'm supposed to do next, not gawping at his handsome profile.

"We're here." He announces, switching off the engine.

"Yeah." I chuckle, mentally kicking myself from here to next Tuesday.

Should I invite him in for coffee? Do I want to invite him in for coffee? Will he want to come in for coffee? Have I actually got any coffee?

"Bella?" He asks. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, sorry." This time I laugh properly, because let's face it, I am ridiculous. "I was wondering if you'd like a coffee?"

"I'd love one." He answers, dazzling me with his smile again.

"Okay then." My voice is over bright as I start fiddling with the door handle to let myself out of the truck.

"Cool it Bella." Jake laughs, unclipping his seatbelt. "Wait for the gentleman to come round and open it."

I roll my eyes but stop yanking the damn thing as he scurries round the front and opens it for me.

"My lady?" He offers me his hand with a flourish and I giggle as I take it and let him guide me out.

He keeps hold of it as we walk up the path and fish my keys out of my purse.

"There's something funny about your number." He comments as I slip the key into the lock.

"Nothing funny about it." I huff. "My daughter couldn't close a door without banging it if her life depended on it. I'm surprised it's still on there, never mind hanging skew whiff."

He's still laughing as I lead him into the kitchen, flipping on the lights as we go.

"This place is great." He observes as I steer him to one of the stools by the center island and busy myself with the coffee.

"Thanks." I murmur, blushing.

I wonder if he thinks what everyone else does? That Freya's Dad must pay a hell of a lot of alimony for us to live in such a big house. I guess it doesn't matter if he does but the fact is I paid Dan back years ago for the money he lent us to get set up here. This place, and everything in it, is mine. It took me a while to get it fully furnished though and it drove Dan mad that I wouldn't let him help.

"How do you take it?" I ask as I fill the mugs.

"Black, no sugar please."

"There you go then."

He takes the coffee and sets it down on the counter beside him.

"Thanks."

I nod, unsure what to do or say next. Damn coffee's too hot to even take a sip of.

My eyes widen as he stands and gently takes my mug from me, placing it carefully next to his.

My breathing hitches as his hand comes up, the backs of his fingers brushing the hair away from my cheek.

My brain, never the most productive of organs these days, shuts down completely as his dark, intent eyes, fill my vision.

He's going to kiss me.

Oh god I want him to kiss me.

"I had garlic." I blurt out, immediately hanging my head in all kinds of shame.

His huge hand cups my jaw, lifting my face so I have to look at him.

"So did I." He says, very, very quietly, as his lips descend to mine.

They're soft and warm but not remotely fleshy as they move gently over my tingling ones. His hand slides round into the hair at the nape of my neck and his other comes up to clasp my elbow, drawing us closer together.

With no brain to tell me what to do my body leans into his automatically, arching against him when his arm slides around my back. There's nothing to stop my mouth popping open when his tongue gently but firmly strokes across my lips. No censorship for the hugely embarrassing moan that escapes into his mouth as it closes firmly over mine. No mental words available to describe the sensations that rush up from my toes as his tongue enters my eager mouth.

No alarm bells when I realise I'm sitting on the counter with his large hands gripping my waist and his hard body between my thighs.

No sense of propriety when his hands drop to my hips and he pulls me to the edge, grinding himself against me and groaning into my mouth as my hands slide down his broad muscular back and into his jeans . . . .


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 4 The Absence of Um**

**BPOV**

I closed the front door behind Jake and examined myself in the hall mirror.

Face, flushed. Cheeks, smudged with mascara. Lipstick, completely gone. Hair, wild. Eyes, heavy lidded. Lips, swollen. Chest, heaving.

I can't see my knees in the mirror but they're definitely wobbling.

Skin? Tingly and pebbled like I've been caught, wet, in a howling draught.

Insides? Warm and pleasantly liquid.

Brain? Ordering me to bed.

Imagination? Alternately mortified and excited about what would have happened if one of us, not me, hadn't come to our senses and broken things off.

…..

Wednesday night we went bowling.

I drove.

He laughed, nicely, at my spectacular lack of skill.

I, grudgingly, forgave him for it.

I dropped him back at his hotel in the city.

We kissed in my car. A lot.

…..

Thursday night, over popcorn and a rom com, Freya admitted that she was into the new guy and I admitted that I was quite partial to Jake.

We concluded, that since the new guy hadn't done much more than stare at her a bit, I was probably winning our titular race.

She was gracious about it.

…..

Saturday night Dan and Cath were having a party.

Jake had asked me out to dinner again.

Refuse or invite him to come with me?

I have to go. I'd promised Cath moral support since a lot of the guests were going to be clients of Dan's. Stuffy she calls them, which is a lot milder than I would have put it. Something about retaining an environmental lawyer seems to make a businessman more than usually smug in my experience.

I couldn't let her down, but could I give up a date with Jake?

"Seriously Bella." Bren snorts. "Is he some kind of savage? Is he gonna shit on Cath's oak dining table?"

"Ew! No!"

"Then invite him."

"It's too soon."

"Too soon for what?" She snorts. "Bells, Freya's eighteen, it ain't too soon for you to date."

"I know that." I snap.

"Then what's it too soon for?"

"We've only gone out twice."

"That's twice more than you've ever managed before." She points out.

I open my mouth to object and then close it again. She knows as much as I could tell her about he who shall not be named and she doesn't count Prom as a date, because I didn't actually want to go in the first place. I told her the complete truth about Dan, and god knows that never included any actual dating.

"Look Bells." She sighs. "The father of your daughter is having a party. Most of the people going are your friends . . . ."

I open my mouth to object again and she holds up her hand.

"Friends Bells. It's a broad classification. You're comfortable, ish, around them, they know you. They might, considering your eighteen year aversion to men, be a little surprised when you bring one. But, sweetie, they're not gonna shave your hair off and tattoo 'harlot' on your forehead."

"I don't know . . . ."

"Freya's not going if that's what you're worried about."

"How the hell do you know that?"

"Facebook, you old fart."

"No." I admit. "She's staying at Maisie's again. Apparently proper preparation for the dance requires plenty of practise runs on hair and makeup."

"So." She observes. "You don't have to worry about her seeing you with a guy. A guy I should point out that you've already told her all about."

"How . . . ."

"Facebook."

"She didn't?"

"Oh yes she did."

"I'll kill her!"

"Steady tiger. She was very polite. Just mentioned that her Mom had been on a second date and was looking good on it."

"God." I moan, dropping my face into my hands. "I'm so embarrassed."

"Yeah." Bren drawls. "Like any sensible thirty something would be embarrassed about dating that fine specimen of manhood."

I shake my head, keeping it securely in my palms. She went down to Reception and chatted up Naresh, our security guard, until he told her who Jake was working for and showed her his building ID photo. Then she went up to their floor and started asking questions. He's got quite the fan club already, not that I'm jealous or anything . . . .

"I'm not dating him. Two dates does not equate to dating."

"Fine. I'm going and Ted's working. I'll invite the man."

"You will not!" I shout, jerking upright to glare at her.

"Bells." She sighs. "We've a meeting in five minutes and I need a comfort break beforehand. Just call him, ask him if he's got a suit, and invite him to take you to the damn party."

…..

"Do I look matronly?" I ask, twirling in front of the mirror in my little black party dress of several years standing.

"Do you really want me to answer that?" Bren responds from her position lounging on my bed.

"It's all I've got."

"Lose the bra. Put your hair up."

"What?"

"There's nothing wrong with your boobs and they'll fill the dress better. And you've a swan's neck, no pun intended, show it off."

"That's trying too hard."

"Fine Matron. Do what feels right."

…..

"Wow." Jake breaths. "You look fantastic."

"Thanks." I mutter, reaching up to fiddle with the hair that usually shields my face but is currently piled on top of my head with tendrils snaking down.

You don't look so bad yourself. Asking you to wear a suit and tie should be illegal in several states.

Our mutual ogling is interrupted my Bren forcing her way between us and offering her hand for Jake to shake.

"Mr Black, I presume?"

"Jake, please, my Dad is Mr Black."

"Well, Jake, can you handle two women at once?" She demands.

"No." He laughs. "Absolutely not."

"Good. I've made up the couch for you. So you can have a drink."

"This is Bren." I interject. "Ignore her."

"So I'm not sleeping on the couch?" He asks, the very picture of innocence.

"Jake." Bren giggles, moving forward to slip her arm through his. "I already like you. Prudella, lock the door behind you and wipe that 'rabbit in the headlights' look off your face, there's a good girl."

And so it begins . . . .

…..

By the time we walk to Dan and Cath's, which is actually only a block away, you'd think that they'd known each other all their lives. God knows what Dan thought when he opened the door to find Bren and I adorning Jake's muscular arms.

He must have been a bit surprised, but he's a lawyer and he covers it well.

"Mr Black, and escorts, I presume?" He twinkles.

He's a twinkler. Twinkly eyes, twinkly smile, it was one of the things I liked about him straight away.

"Dan." He continues, sticking out his hand.

Jake deftly dislodges the pair of us and grips it firmly.

There's some squeezing and a manly eye meet before Dan ushers us all inside.

A waiter appears from nowhere, offering Bren and I wine, which we take, naturally, and offering Jake an imported beer when he shakes his head.

We pass the time commenting on the impressive turnout, their enormous house is crammed with people, until the waiter returns with Jake's beer.

"So, security aye?" Dan asks.

"Yes." Jake responds easily. "Industrial espionage mainly. Data protection, fiscal safekeeping, personal security. We try to offer a complete service."

"I thought so." Dan nods and I suspect his investigations have been a great deal more thorough than Bren's.

I appreciate that about him, even if he was checking on someone I've technically known a long time and didn't ask me first.

"Do you network?" He asks.

"Of course." Jake answers with a wide smile.

"Then there are a few people I could introduce you to while the woman talk about you in the kitchen." Dan offers with a wink.

"Bella?" Jake checks politely.

"Go ahead. I'll suffer the interrogation on your behalf."

"Alright then." He drops a chaste kiss on my temple. "Dan, shall we?"

Smooth.

They've barely turned away when Bren places both hands on my back and propels me into the kitchen.

"Cath!" She whisper shrieks. "Front and center. You are _so_ gonna wanna hear about this . . . ."

…..

"Alright?" Jake asks as we loiter in the corner together.

I nod. I am now, standing next to him, I fancy I can feel the heat rolling off him and seeping into me.

"Did you meet anyone interesting?"

"Not compared to you." He whispers.

"Smooth." I chuckle, sipping my wine.

I've lost count of how many I've had by now, we were separated a long time, and I should probably be a lot more worried about it than I am.

"I like to think so. And honest, don't forget that."

"You only get one compliment you know."

"Okay, I'm still waiting then. I don't count being called 'smooth' as a compliment."

"You're fishing now?"

"_Please_." He shudders. "Let's not relive that particular part of our childhood."

"I _liked_ fishing." I lie.

"Bella. I remember you releasing all the bait back into the wild just so Charlie would have to take us home."

"Yeah. I did do that, didn't I?"

"You were my hero."

I snort into my glass, creating an interesting ripple effect on the surface of the wine. And then blush, because, through the throng, I can see Bren studying us intently.

"We're being watched." I tell him without turning my head to look at him.

"I know." He whispers back, also looking straight ahead. "It's my job to notice these things."

"She's harmless." I say by way of excusing her behaviour.

"She cares about you." And I'm aware of his massive shoulders moving as he shrugs.

"She's a good friend." I agree. "If it weren't for Bren I'd probably be pretty much house bound."

I sense his question as he turns to look at me.

"I'm not the most sociable person in the world." I confess, keeping my eyes on the room.

"You're shy." He observes.

"I guess so." Now it's my turn to shrug. I'm not sure it's quite that simple anymore, but I used to be.

"Sure you are." He says quietly, and this time I do turn to look at him. "I remember teenage you as being tongue tied and retiring to the point of trying to melt into the walls. Now you're a woman you deflect instead. Two approaches. Same reason. But you still have a beautiful blush.."

"It's your job to notice these things?" I rasp, captivated by his dark eyes boring into mine.

"Not in you. That I do because I'm genuinely interested."

My throat is suddenly so constricted I can't even muster an embarrassing 'um' and I want to kiss him so badly I may have licked my lips.

No, I definitely did, because I've just done it again and he's now gazing at them hungrily.

"Take me home Bella." He murmurs to them. "Neither of us wants to be here."

No, still no 'um'. Which is a shame, because a really good mindless 'um' would be a useful deflection right now.

Without it there's nothing for me to do but agree.

"Okay."

…..

With Jake's hand securely wrapped around mine I manage to avoid every knowing, pointed, or simply curious look until we're in the safety of the street.

"Wow." He says as we stroll along, hand in hand. "You'd think you've never left a party early before."

"I haven't." I admit with a shrug. "They invite me. I go. I usually stay till the end to help Cath get everything straight. Dan has to entertain a lot for his work and they've got three little ones, it can't be easy for her."

"And how do you help with that?" He laughs. "Supervise the caterers?"

"Oh don't be nasty. Yes. At least Cath gets a break. It's not like she can relax when the house is full of clients."

"Well tonight she can supervise them herself." He states, letting go of my hand and pulling me into his side. "So pack up that puritan guilt and let me tell you about the time Dad and Charlie blew up Sam Uley's boat . . . ."

…..

"She really did make up the couch." Jake observes as I lead him into the kitchen.

"She did and it's a lot more comfortable than it looks."

"We'll see. I'm six four you know."

"Oh, crap." I wheel to face him. "I didn't think about that."

"No sweat Bella." He says, advancing on me and resting his hands on my shoulders. "I've slept on worse."

And here we go. He radiates warmth like the sun. Or at least I think he does. I'm starting to wonder if it might be me. Whenever he gets close I definitely heat up. Maybe it's the butterflies, kinetic energy or something. I wish I had more experience with all this. Whatever this is . . . .

Oh shut up. He's kissing you. Concentrate on the good stuff . . . .

God that _is_ good.

I love the way his tongue twists with mine, letting me taste him, beer, peanuts and something uniquely Jake.

I love the way his huge hands feel, roaming my back and ghosting over my shoulders.

The sounds we're making should be embarrassing but strangely aren't. Gasping, moaning, hands moving fabric, bunching it, pulling on it, smoothing it out before they move on. And in a blatant exploitation of gender mores his have stayed politely on my back while mine have burrowed under his suit jacket and travelled over his arms, shoulders, chest and abdomen. Feeling, learning, enjoying the flutter of his muscles as they pass by.

After an indeterminate amount of time we're both struggling for breath and he transfers his lips to my jaw, neck, earlobe and collar bone. It's so amazingly distracting that I don't even notice when he lifts me, my legs wrapping round him automatically, and carries me off.

I only realise that, unbelievably, this can get even better, when his long hard body is pressing mine inexorably into the couch. His tongue plunging back into my mouth . . . .


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 5 Holey Flurking Schnit **

**BPOV**

Oh god, damn this old lady dress!

His hands have cupped and skimmed my breasts and my nipples are literally throbbing in time with my hammering pulse. But I can't feel the warmth of his palms against them because the damn dress is practically made of asbestos. How I wish it were made of something thin, stretchy, easily movable . . . .

"Jesus, Bella." He groans, releasing my lips to attack my neck again, teeth scraping across it.

In frustration at my own secure clothing, my clawing at his, has resulted in ripping his shirt out of his pants and _god_ the skin on his back is so warm and smooth, the muscles so fluid as he moves his hands up to weave into my hair, tugging it free from Bren's pins in the process. His long fingers kneading my scalp. I love how that feels, I really do, arching my back to press my body up into his. His teeth clamp down on my neck and I groan in a most unladylike way, apparently urging his lips to crash back into mine.

Our bodies are rolling together now and I can feel his, um, ah, I can't even mentally apply a name to it I'm so pathetic, grinding into my thigh. Just feeling it is enough to make my eyes cross and my body writhe for reasons all of its own.

His right hand skims down my body, brushing the outer swell of my breast, fingers bumping over my ribs, gripping my waist briefly, palming my hip, curling under my butt, squeezing it, sliding down my thigh, kneading the muscle, the pads of his fingers caressing the thin skin at the back of my knee, gliding down to trace over my calf. Hand clamping round it suddenly, lifting it, hitching my leg up and over his hip before sliding back up my thigh, under my dress, to hold it there, hold me open to him.

There's a pause, lips and tongues still.

And then we're not rolling together, we're grinding against each other, seeking out the friction, mouths clashing almost painfully, devouring each other, my finger nails raking across his broad back.

His hand is so high now, pushing up my dress, grasping my hip, that he can feel I'm not wearing panties. Fingers flexing, thumb rubbing my pubic bone, hard, dragging at the skin. His, ah, oh god, grinding into me with more urgency.

That feeling, even pushing against my rucked up dress and through his pants, there aren't words . . . . I want . . . . I don't want it to stop . . . . so warm . . . . hot . . . . wound . . . . ungh . . . .

My head pulls back, wrenching my lips away from his.

Every muscle in my body pulls taut.

And then immolates itself.

"Jake!" I cry his name out quietly, part scream, part gratitude, part happy surprise.

He hums against my throat, lips and tongue covering it in moisture, thumb sliding off my pubic bone and onto my clit, body angling away from mine . . . .

I don't . . . . that's . . . . holy fucking shit . . . .

My hands dart into the gap between us, unsnapping his belt, pulling down his zipper, burrowing into his boxers, closing around him, squeezing him.

"Fuck!" He hisses, thrusting into my hands. "Bella, fuck . . . ."

He's so hard. And warm. And the feel of the silky skin, moving with my palms, sliding against his shaft . . . .

The tip rubs across my wrist, coating it with the thick moist evidence of his arousal.

Groaning he bites down, gently, on my collar bone, pushing himself harder into my hands.

My nose is buried in his hair, breathing him in.

His thumb presses harder as it circles my clit, gliding easily over the slick wet flesh.

As does mine, flicking over the tip of him as my hands work him harder.

Faster.

Anticipating.

Tightening.

Clenching.

Releasing.

Acutely aware.

Moisture, expelled from inside me, coating his hand and my thighs.

Shuddering bodies.

Formless sounds.

Him, twitching and jerking in my grasping hands, painting my wrists with sticky warmth . . . .

"Bella." He exhales into my neck. "Holy fucking shit . . . ."

Agreed . . . .

Tension seeping out of our muscles, bodies sagging together, long satisfied sighs, lips brushing against each other, softly, gently, gratefully . . . .

Bang!

Bren.

Both our heads snap sideways.

"Oops." She laughs, cannoning off the hall table and somehow managing to shut the front door behind her. "Sorry. At least you're fully clothed. Boy could that have been embarrassing. Don't let me interrupt you. Snog away. And all that jizz, sorry, jazz."

Waving a hand at us she stomps up the stairs and makes her way to the guest room, slamming the door behind her.

Jake buries his face in my hair, laughing, but still managing to press kisses against my scalp. His hand, cupping me between my thighs, squeezing gently.

And here I lay, my own hands still wrapped around his softening length.

If there's etiquette for this I don't know what the fuck it is . . . .

Somehow we make our own. Laughing, apologising, kissing, hugging, whispering rubbish at each other.

The jacket, of what I suspect is a very expensive suit, is used to clean us up and then discarded on the floor.

Jake toes off his shoes and socks, dropping them down to join it, pulling his belt free to adorn the pile.

Then he rolls to the back of the couch, wrapping his arms securely round my middle and pulling me into his body. Where I think, very probably, with my shoes still on, I'm going to fall asleep . . . .

…..

I know something is different as soon as I start struggling my way back to consciousness.

Because I'm being cuddled, and honestly, I don't think that's ever really happened before, at least not like this . . . .

It's nice.

And a little alarming.

I've deliberately not been thinking about what might be happening between us too much, because if I'm honest I tend to overthink things to the point of paralysis and I'm getting kind of tired of it. I like him, he seems to like me, we laugh, we talk, we never get bored or awkward in each other's company and, frankly, there's some serious chemistry going on here. I went out last night without underwear for god's sake, I have never _ever_ done that in my entire life, not even when I was 'on one' in Florida.

He said he would be in town for a while and I should really at least think about that, I'm supposed to be a grown up, mature and whatnot, not getting tossed along on the wind like a leaf. I am not Renee. But I do seem to be behaving a bit like her where Jake's concerned.

His arms tighten round me, pulling me further back into his chest as he hums into my neck, pressing a soft kiss against the skin.

We've moved in the night and someone, I'm assuming him, has covered us with the blanket. I can't deny I love the way it feels to have him spoon me like this, bodies flush, legs tangled together.

"Good morning." He murmurs.

"Morning." I mumble back, trying to get a grip on the level of weirdness involved in waking up on my couch with a man whose pants I had my hands down last night.

"It's too early to get up, don't you think?"

I shrug. Noncommittal is good.

He hums again and drags me deeper into the couch like he's the most comfortable man on earth. Which reminds me, six four.

"Did you sleep okay?"

"For the most part." He chuckles. "I had a soft and lusciously scented pillow."

Even I know he means me and I blush accordingly.

"I was worried you'd wake up in the night and sneak off to the sanctity of your bedroom." He continues. "But I needn't have kept waking up to check on you, you sleep like a log."

I laugh.

It's true, once I'm out I'm out, especially if I've been on the wine.

He stretches for a moment then snuggles back down again.

We both sigh.

Zero weirdness, everything just feels so easy with Jake.

"You talk in your sleep."

My body turns to ice and I stiffen, it's been a long time since anyone's said those words to me.

"Hey." He sniggers, jostling me a little. "Don't worry, you didn't say anything embarrassing, your plans for world domination are safe with me."

I take a shuddering breath. I am not doing this. Not here. Not now. It's been nearly twenty years. I am not that girl anymore.

Closing my eyes I twist in his arms, burying myself in his huge warm chest.

"That's better." He observes contentedly. "This is something I could definitely get used to."

I nod my head, taking the chance to inhale his scent, lingering traces of expensive cologne, fabric softener and Jake. He's real and he's _here_.

…..

When I wake again I'm alone on the couch, swaddled in the blanket like a well lagged pipe.

I can hear voices in the kitchen and smell coffee . . . .

Unable to escape my cocoon I waddle through to see what's happening.

Bren immediately breaks into peals of laughter, maybe I should have checked myself in the mirror?

"Hey." Jake says, leaping up from his stool and pressing a chaste kiss to my temple. "Sorry I abandoned you but your friend threatened me with bodily harm if I didn't fix the waffle iron."

"You fixed it?" I ask stupidly.

"Yep." Bren confirms, wiping her eyes. "He has mad skills. Let me get you some coffee, you look like you could use it."

I nod and shuffle to the stool next to Jake's.

Smiling he takes pity on me and loosens my lagging so he can help me up onto it. Then he pulls his closer and sits so our thighs are touching.

Have I mentioned he's an incredibly hard man? Muscles like steel. No wobble.

I nod my gratitude as Bren shoves a steaming mug in my hands.

"He also makes The Hangover Cure of Champions." She informs me. "You want it?"

"No." I shake my head. "I've just slept too long."

The both watch me with indulgent smiles while I sip the scalding liquid.

I really should have looked in the mirror but I'm so unused to this kind of thing it didn't even occur to me. What if I look like the Bride of Frankenstein? I probably do. Jake is barely rumpled, just sat there looking gorgeous with his shirt unbuttoned to show the top planes of his chest . . . .

Bren's voice rips me out of my mindless ogling.

"Well then." She says brightly. "I'd better be going, Ted's promised me shopping and an overpriced lunch. Jake, it was lovely to meet you. Bells baby, you own a mirror, use it."

And, she's gone, the front door banging behind her.

"How bad do I look?" I groan.

"Honestly?"

I nod.

"Like you've slept on the couch and some guy's enjoyed having his hands in your hair. Which I did, by the way."

Blushing now and looking away.

"Thanks for fixing the waffle iron."

"You're welcome. You could pay me back by joining me for lunch?"

"Um, I'll have to check what Freya's up to?"

"No problem." He leans in and gently removes my coffee mug, setting on the counter behind us, I kinda like it when he does that. "I should head back to the hotel for a shower and a change of clothes, I must smell like a dog."

I shake my head and then start wondering if that's code and I do . . . .

His nose meets mine and I clamp my mouth shut not wanting to asphyxiate him with my morning breath.

"I had a great time last night." He whispers softly. "Thank you for inviting me."

I nod mutely.

"Ring me and let me know if you're free."

"M-kay."

His lips brush gently across mine.

Okay, good, no morning breath.

His tongue darts out and licks across them, making my eyes cross a little, not opening my mouth, not . . . .

His hands are in my hair and it's all over, my mouth pops open and his tongue slips inside to lavish it with attention.

I may have moaned.

"Mmm." He murmurs, pulling back so we're nose to nose again. "Coffee tastes better on you."

I blink at him stupidly and he smiles that traffic stopping smile.

"I'd better go." He says regretfully, pulling all the way back and releasing my hair. "Call me? No matter what your plans are with Freya?"

"Okay." I promise, following him to the front door where I get another chaste peck on the temple before watching him climb into his truck and drive away.

I close the door behind me and float to the mirror.

Firstly, I'm clutching the blanket round me like I'm naked underneath it and not still wearing the chastity dress.

Second. I do have something of a sex hair thing going on.

Third. A panda would want to hump me if he saw the mascara ringing my eyes.

In short, I look completely ridiculous.

But happy.

I'll take that.

And a shower . . . .


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 6 The Roller Coaster of Life**

**BPOV**

I never made it to lunch with Jake, instead I came out of the bathroom to find Freya huddled on my bed, eyes red-rimmed, cheeks stained with dried tears.

Eventually, between the sobbing, I managed to prise everything out of her.

She and Maisie went to the mall this morning to get shoes to go with their dresses for the dance. Maisie's Grant was there paying a little too much attention to one of the Cheerleaders. Maisie, who reminds me of me when I was younger, was all for slinking away unnoticed and asking him about it later. Freya, who loves fiercely and sometimes is unable to engage her brain before her mouth runs away with her, had other ideas and was over there, telling it like she saw it before Maisie could stop her.

In fairness to Freya, a little too much attention included lip action and some buttock groping, but Maisie accused her of robbing her of her dignity by making a scene in front of what later turned out to be half their senior year. I can sympathise with her, I'd rather have dealt with it out of the limelight too.

Anyway, after Freya and the hapless Cheerleader had been separated by half the football team, which included the unfortunate loss of some Cheerleading hair in the process, Maisie tried to explain to Freya how she felt. Freya, who was still furious, accused Maisie of being a doormat. Which clearly she isn't because apparently she told Freya to 'go fuck herself' and stormed off.

Still, at least no Mikes were harmed in the making of this drama.

And that was my Sunday.

…..

In the morning my daughter was not at home to her inner niceness and, coward that I am, I let her stomp off to school having barely exchanged a word with her.

On the drive into the city I got rear ended by a delivery truck and the world's surliest driver.

My first email of the morning was from the school. Freya'd got detention that night for attempting to expand her hair collection with another Cheerleader.

I called Dan and when he'd stopped laughing he commiserated with me and offered to pick her up from said detention and take her out for dinner and a father daughter chat. I decided to let him.

Then I called Jake. When he'd stopped laughing he promised _me_ dinner, on Wednesday night.

Then I called Maisie's Mom.

…..

The following morning the doorbell went halfway through breakfast and I went to let Maisie in.

She gave me a wan smile and frankly looked every bit as miserable as Freya did.

I hung out in the hall and got both eyes made up while they talked in low voices. When they went quiet I peeked through the doorway, a lump immediately forming in my throat. They were hugging and crying. They're bone fide best friends, I knew they'd work it out.

Eventually I had to throw them out of the house so they wouldn't be late for school.

Bren came round after work and the three of us mucked about with face packs, braided each other's hair and discussed the resolution of conflict without violence over non-alcoholic cocktails and full fat ice cream.

…..

Wednesday morning we sat down for a cosy breakfast.

"So." I want to know. "What did 'hot new guy' think of your violent tendencies?"

"I don't know." She says quietly.

"Have you spoken to him yet?"

She laughs, shaking her head. "Not unless 'can I borrow this chair' counts."

"Maybe he's shy." I offer by way of consolation.

"I don't think so." She shrugs. "And I don't mind. I don't think he's my type. Don't get me wrong, he's so good looking he's almost painful to look at, but he's kind of intense and serious. I'm pretty sure he's high maintenance, his hair is amazing, he must spend longer in front of the mirror than I do in the mornings, and no one's eyelashes can be that full naturally."

"Ew." Is my only comment.

"Yeah." She giggles. "I'm going to enjoy looking at him for purely aesthetic purposes and I'm going to let my ego swell a bit if I catch him looking back, but other than that I guess it was the shortest crush in history. Besides, I'm starting to prefer his brother."

And she blushes.

"God Freya! Fickle much?"

"I'm eighteen." She objects. "I'm not supposed to fall in love forever at this point."

"No." I respond with more vehemence than the words themselves deserve. "You're not."

"There's a bit of a problem with his brother though . . . ."

"I'm almost afraid to ask . . . ."

"He's a junior."

Oh. Yeah, I can see how that would be a problem, kids are so insecure High School's probably the most rigid self-imposed social structure on earth.

"Bummer." I murmur.

I'm conflicted to be honest. Freya's had boyfriends before but nothing serious and the overprotective Mom in me would like to keep it that way until she's older. And it's worse for me because I don't want her to end up like me, ruined before she even gets started on life and love. And I'm not just talking about getting pregnant, there are worse things . . . .

"Alright." She sighs with exaggerated patience. "You've zoned out and I'm going to school."

"Sorry." I mutter, gathering our plates and taking them to rinse in the sink.

Laughing she grabs her bag and makes a great show of leaning down to kiss my cheek.

"Cheer up Mom, there's still another brother, your daughter might bag a Cullen yet."

The crash of the front door covers the sound of the plates clattering into the sink.

God there's a name I didn't think I'd hear anywhere outside my own head again.

My chest constricts painfully and I grip the edge of the sink as I struggle to breathe.

I know I'm being ridiculous. I _am_ a grown up. And it was all so long ago, a whole lifetime ago, but the weirdest things send me spinning back into it like it was only yesterday. Words. Smells. Music. _Names_. Even certain cars have been known to set me off. I used to work with a guy called E . . . . anyway, I could barely look at the poor man, let alone say his name. I spent two years calling him Mr Porter and of course he never could work out what he'd done wrong.

I hate that I can still get like this, breathless and almost crippled with pain, it's not like I don't _know_ it's not normal. And I'm kind of disappointed I am like it now. I'd made up my mind, I was finally going to move on, there's something with Jake. Or at least I thought there was.

It's not like I still lo . . . .

I still dream about . . . . _then_ . . . . though not nearly as much as I used to and those dreams have certainly lost some of their power . . . . I don't wake up crying or screaming these days, more tired and weighed down with a sadness that doesn't really feel like my own anymore . . . . which I've started to put down to being lonely.

But I still get these random reactions, almost like a Pavlovian response to old stimuli.

And god knows I've had some Beserka Bella moments over the years.

I clung on for so long and went looking for ghosts on the flimsiest of evidences.

But he promised. And apart from the memories and the dreams he hasn't broken that promise. It is like he never existed. Like I imagined him . . . .

I gasp, turning away from the sink, sliding down onto the floor with my back to the cabinet, pulling my knees up to my chest and winding my arms tightly round them.

When I do think about . . . . _him_ . . . . the pain doesn't seem to have diminished in any way. It slices through me like a knife.

I'm a mess. I get that. And it's probably why I'm not more concerned about Jake only being in town 'for a while'.

Bren is sympathetic, as much as she can be, but I know she thinks I'm some kind of emotional retard. I could tell her why my teenage heartbreak is a little different but then instead of getting frustrated with me she'd probably have me committed.

It's not self-pity, but sometimes I _hate_ that there's no one in the world I can talk to about what happened and why it sometimes affects me the way it does.

And I can laugh at myself, I really can. Look at me now, rocking backward and forward, my spine thudding into the cabinet door like a metronome.

It's pathetic.

But the rocking shit really works, my breathing is evening out and I'm starting to feel the first stirrings of embarrassment.

Okay. Good.

With embarrassment comes common sense.

There are thousands of families with that name. I know, I checked. They may be new, shiny, and 'good looking' but apart from the Bieber boy Freya's had several other less than auspicious crushes, she likes DiCaprio for crying out loud. There is absolutely nothing else to make me think the ghosts of Forks are haunting Freya's High School.

Tears of frustration are pouring down my cheeks now. I don't want to be this . . . . _ruined_ . . . . I really don't. I don't even understand why I get like this anymore and I'm going to be seriously late for work . . . .

…..

So, this is the extent of my insanity.

Like our town, our hospital isn't that big.

It's going to get noticed that I turned up here, mooched about for a bit, and then fled looking panic stricken.

Just like it did the last couple of times.

Maisie's Mom is a nurse here, this time I'm just going to pop in and thank her for helping me get the girls back together. I'm not going to ask if they've got any new Doctors and I'm not going to go prowling the halls like a mentalist.

Or, since I'm barely out of the car, I'm going to get the fuck back in and go to work . . . .

…..

"You made it just in time." Bren observes, shoving a coffee at me.

"Sorry." I mutter taking a sip while I take my coat off and slinging it into my cubicle along with my purse. "Are they here?"

"Yes. They're happy enough for the minute, Shona went to the bakery and they're tucking into the bagels as we speak."

"Thanks Shona!" I call out.

"No bother Boss." She hollers back.

"What?" I ask Bren as she stares at me critically.

"One eye Bella. This deal is worth a quarter of a million and you only got one eye? What went wrong this time?"

"Shit!" I dive into the cubicle to retrieve my purse and so begins another sales pitch by the under qualified and unprepared . . . .

…..

"Seriously?" Jake asks, looking suitably impressed. "You closed a deal worth how much? Bella that's serious money, I hope they gave you a bonus."

Embarrassed I laugh and shake my head. No chance.

"Well then." He says with a low sexy laugh, lifting his wine glass. "To Bella, on a very successful day."

Red from tip to toe I chink glasses with him before taking a sip of my own wine.

It was a good day today. I got over my stupid meltdown without going Beserka Bella and storming the hospital, I got over my nerves to sell a successful company on what Twilight could do for them and I got to top it all off with dinner at one of my favourite restaurants in the city, with Jake.

….

I pull up in the parking garage of Jake's hotel.

"Coffee?" He asks.

We both know he's not just asking about coffee, the heat's been humming through me ever since he paid the bill and we strolled hand in hand back to my car. He must be able to feel that, he's looking at me like he does . . . .

Sensing my hesitation he reaches over and gently moves my hair away from my face.

"Bella." He says softly, capturing and holding my eyes with his. "I'm not going to lie to you, I've thought about little else but making love to you since I bumped into you on the street. I'm a guy and you're a beautiful, smart, funny woman."

My breathing hitches and his thumb gently caresses my cheek.

"But I like you Bella. I _really_ like you. I'll go at whatever pace you want to set. And I'll be happy to do it."

I blink. I don't know what pace I want to set. I've never set the pace with anything. I don't know how. And it's probably a moot point anyway, the second his lips are on mine my inhibitions seem to take the proverbial hike. This is bad, this is very bad . . . .

Oh for the love of god woman. You're in your thirties. You're not exactly a virgin . . . .

If you're not sure just decline the coffee invite, give yourself some space, it's not like he's pressuring you or anything. It's not like it's now or nothing . . . .

Oh god! Nothing? How many ways am I going to kick my own ass if I end up with nothing?

"Bella!" His hand cups my face, rubbing it gently wherever his fingers can reach.

"Sorry. I zoned out, I do that, it's my age, or something . . . . I'm . . . ."

Messed up? Useless? Scared? Really, really stupid . . . .

"Perfect." He says favouring me with his best easy going smile. "Come on, have coffee with me in the hotel bar, amazingly enough there's even more Billy and Charlie fuckery I can tell you about."

"There is?" I ask stupidly.

"Oh baby." He chuckles, releasing my face. "You have _no_ idea . . . ."


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 7 FUBAR**

**BPOV**

I left Jake's room at around two am, having – ahem – naturally migrated there from the bar.

I didn't set any pace, instead I found myself completely trusting whatever was between us.

It was a shrewd move.

I drove back to my place on a cloud of bliss and yet with nothing to freak out over and so much_ more_ to still look forward to.

And the best thing about it? The absolute _best_?

We're _both_ looking forward to the same thing. No confusion, no uncertainty, no leaps of faith, no insane secrets, no insurmountable obstacles.

Today_, _yesterday, _was_ a good day . . . .

…..

"So anyway, I just wanted to thank you all for your contributions to winning the contract and let you know that we'll be . . . ."

The nerve jangling shriek of the building's fire alarm cuts me off mid stammered leadership speech. And I can't deny I'm not a little bit relieved, to have them all looking at me, hanging on my every word, well, it's not exactly my comfort zone.

In blatant disregard of all the rules we grab our coats, and anything else we're particularly attached to, before joining the good natured stampeded down the stairwell. And not for the first time I wonder how many of us would regret that if this weren't a drill or another 'moving furniture meets emergency panel' kind of false alarm.

It's chaos in the lobby as we push our way through the opened glass walls and surge out into the plaza and light drizzle.

Bren's happily regaling me with details I don't want of her night with Ted and I'm looking ahead, because if you're clumsy you should always pay attention to where you're going.

Shiny black shoes of unimpeachable quality. Pant legs. Sober grey overcoat. A scarf of muted blues, fashionably tied. Face. Eyes. Hair.

"Bella?"

Soft honeyed tones, musical.

I have, of course, thought about this moment ad nauseum over the years. And, as those years have gone on, I've frankly expected just that, nausea, and possibly some blunt head trauma.

I do feel sick.

But that's about it.

Everything has shut down . . . .

"Bells?"

"Bella!"

"What the fuck?!"

"Bella!"

"Jeff, you useless ponce, get a First Aider!"

"Bella . . . . for the love of . . . ."

He blinks. Once. Then backs up a step. And another. Then he turns and the milling crowd swallows him as he walks away.

As if carefully orchestrated I feel a chair pushing against the back of my knees just as they decide to give out.

A huff of air escapes me as I collapse onto it.

Bren's concerned face fills my vision as she kneels down in front of me and I focus on her instead of the crowd gathering around us.

"Yeah, she's fine. Hasn't been eating properly, been working on this deal too hard. Yeah, yeah, back off people, the woman needs air."

The First Aider, a portly lady with a tight bun, arrives and squats down next to Bren.

…..

Somehow, don't ask me how, we managed to convince the nice lady that I wasn't having a complete mental breakdown and escape down the block to Bren's car.

Twenty minutes into the journey home Bren decides that whatever this is has gone on long enough.

"So." She begins quietly. "I guess it's a good thing Jake had to go out of town today."

I'm still not exactly responsive so she continues without me.

"It was him, wasn't it?"

"The Forks Heartbreaker."

"Jesus Bells." She chuckles wryly. "You sure can pick 'em."

"Well, if it's any consolation, I can see what the fuss was about." She sighs. "The look on his face damn near broke _my_ heart."

"I'm not gonna force you to talk about it but I'm your friend Bells, I love you, and I can't help you if you don't let me in."

"I'm gonna take that congested look on your face as both acknowledgement and apology that you ain't gonna tell me squat. And that's fine honey, but you don't have to do this on your own, just so you know."

"I wish I could help you."

My hand lashes out, closing round her wrist and giving it a squeeze before returning to the job of holding me together.

She sighs and we drive on in silence.

"I don't wanna leave you on your own. You gonna be okay?" She asks as she pulls up in front of my house.

I manage to nod, tears beginning to leak out and trickle down my face.

"Oh Bells." She whispers. "Baby. I don't know what to do."

I shake my head, biting my lip, there's nothing she can do. I'm on my own with this.

She leans in and gives me a hard hug, grinding my suddenly fragile feeling bones together, before releasing me and shooing me out of the car.

Five hours. In five hours Freya will be home from school and I have to have found a way to deal with this.

…..

I've lost track of how long I've sat here.

I was really excited when I found the old Grandmother clock that now hangs on the wall in my living room. Freya used to sit cross legged underneath it and talk up to it, like it was a conduit to Dan's mother, who died when she was a toddler. I've always found the sound of it ticking comforting, gotten a little stressed when it slowed down and needed winding.

That ticking is the only sound I've consciously heard for what I am guessing is hours now.

How'd he find me? Why'd he find me? Was it an accident? A cosmic joke because I almost went looking for him yesterday morning?

Does it matter?

I always knew my imagination wasn't that good. That it was all real.

Idly I finger the crescent shaped scar on my hand. It's surprising how few people notice it, considering it's not exactly subtle. It aches, sometimes.

I don't know what to do. Which is funny, really, because there's fuck all I _can_ do.

He'll find me again, if he wants to.

I don't know if I want him to. I used to. For a while it was all I wanted, for them to find me, or me to find them. Then reality set in. I'm a mother. Moms can't go gallivanting off after their dreams, take notes Renee. So I just dreamt.

I don't know how to deal with this reality.

My daughter, who I love more than life itself, seems to be going to school with the ghosts of Forks.

It doesn't bare thinking about. Yet I don't seem to have a choice.

It could be a coincidence. But it'd be a fucking great big one.

Oh god. What if she smells like me?

Jesus. My heart stops dead in my chest and then struggles back to life.

They're dangerous.

In so many ways . . . .

I look at the clock.

Two hours. She'll be home in two hours.

I'll never last that long.

Jesus. What if _she_ doesn't last that long?

My hand hovers over the phone and then snatches back into my lap.

Who am I gonna call?

'Dan? Yeah, you know the boy who ruined me in High School. Yeah, well, he's going to school with Freya, she likes him Dan. No, he's not a teacher, he's a student. Yeah, it's quite a funny story actually . . . '

'Bren? Yeah, the reason I didn't tell you about my High School heartbreak, well, grab a stake and some garlic and I'll fill you in while we bust Freya out of class, how you'll laugh . . . .'

'Jake. I know we've only been out a couple of times but how'd you feel about taking on a new identity and moving to Borneo with Freya and me?'

'Charlie, grab your gun and hop on the next flight, he who shall not be named is back . . . .'

My chest constricts and I fold over myself, resting my head on my knees.

This cannot be happening . . . . this cannot be happening . . . . this cannot be happening . . . .

I could go and pick her up myself. She'll freak, Mom's aren't welcome in the school parking lot. Scratch that, I'll freak, and she really doesn't need to see that.

There's nothing I can do.

Nothing . . . .

…..

Bang!

The front door slams behind Freya and her long legs carry her straight into the kitchen.

As usual she's got her cell glued to her ear and doesn't even realise I'm here.

"About thirty mins, I'm just gonna grab a snack and get changed . . . ."

Cupboard doors slam.

"I _know_ . . . . u-huh me too . . . . yeah, she'll be cool, I'll leave her a note . . . . nah . . . . only you Maisie . . . . alright, alright, I won't get changed . . . . fuck . . . . yeah, sorry, nearly dropped the plate . . . . yeah, he looked really miserable _again_ . . . . he's a total douche bag, you know that, right . . . . you're a strong independent woman, fuck him . . . . ugh, don't . . . . fucking Mike, he's putting me off puppies for life with that shit . . . . gotta go food is ready . . . . I will _not_ get fat . . . . okay bye, bye."

A short silence is followed by the crash of a plate being thrown carelessly in the sink.

"Okay." She mutters to herself. "One dutiful daughter note done and _dusted_. I'm outta here . . . ."

Bang!

Clatter.

There goes the number, finally.

I should go after her, stop her, drag her back where I can keep an eye on her. I don't know why I'm not. I'm her Mom, it's my job to protect her. Except I always wanted her to have a normal life and I can't think well enough to come up with a valid reason why I need her to stay home that doesn't include telling her 'there be monsters'.

Besides. They're _not_ dangerous, not in that way, they didn't kill _me_ . . . . and she'd see, wouldn't she? She'd never let that happen . . . . not to my daughter . . . . we were friends . . . . once . . . .

I snort. The first sound I've made for a long time. Like I could protect her. It's not like I've acquired any supernatural powers over the years, or know anyone who has. If he found me once then she's probably safer away from me. Maybe I should text Maisie's Mom and ask her to hang onto Freya for the night?

But I don't seem to be able to do anything but sit here, possibly waiting, like a stone statue.

No irony there then.

…..

Eventually, as darkness falls, there's a knock at the door. Everyone I know either wouldn't come to my door without calling first or would walk right in.

So I don't move.

"Bella?"

It isn't possible for me to get any colder so I shudder instead. It's pointless to think he'll believe I'm out.

"Bella. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. And I don't mean to harass you, but I wanted to be sure you were alright . . . . after this morning."

"Can I come in?"

"Bella I'm worried about you."

"I caught your scent. At the hospital, yesterday. It hasn't changed. It took me a while to track you down though."

I think he might have sighed. Heavily.

"Bella. Fate has people cross paths for a reason. I'd like to talk to you, if you'll allow it."

My vocal chords move but my brain hasn't supplied any words so they emit no sound.

"I understand, if you don't want to . . . ."

He falls silent and I almost miss the sound of his voice. Which _really_ sucks.

In fact, I hadn't even realised I'd moved closer to it until I found myself in the hall. It's the sight of my white, ghostly reflection, in the mirror that stops me dead in my tracks. I've looked like that before. And I don't want to go there again. _Ever_. A part of me, a small part, wants to tell him to fuck off. But a lifetime of obsequiousness keeps me quiet. As does my concern for Freya and half a lifetime of unanswered questions.

"You can find me, via the hospital, if you change your mind. I'll let Reception know, to give you my number, in the event that I'm not working."

"_Bella_ . . . ." Another sigh, one I can definitely hear this time. "I'm so _sorry_ . . . ."

I can hear the soles of his shoes rhythmically slapping the path as he retreats. The opening, and costly sounding closing, of his car door. The quiet purr of his engine as it starts and wafts him down the street and away into the night.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 8 Lemming**

**BPOV**

Somehow. I don't know how. I made it into the kitchen to read Freya's note. Then I called Maisie's Mom to make sure she _would_ drive her home. Then I took a shower, the universal panacea. Except it wasn't. Nothing was any better afterward. Possibly I was cleaner. But really, in the grand scheme of things, what fucking difference does that make?

Oh yeah. I'm all kinds of fiery now, 'safely' ensconced in my bedroom. Every window, shade, and curtain, firmly closed.

My daughter, returned unharmed, watching a movie in her own room.

I'm going to the hospital in the morning. Of course I am. What else can I do?

…..

Freya takes advantage of my fretful lack of sleep by scamming me for twenty bucks over breakfast.

I rang Bren to let her know I probably wouldn't be in for work, I didn't tell her why but she didn't need me to draw her a picture under the circumstances. She repeated her offer of help and this time I was at least able to thank her for it properly. Not that I'll be taking her up on it. I don't know if I've always been secretive or if the events of my youth just made me that way, anyway, it is what is, I'm so used to not talking about this that I wouldn't even know where to start. Let alone how to edit out the parts that definitely can't be shared. No, it's safer, for everybody, this way.

With no timescale to work to I tidy the kitchen, then the living room and the den. I'm about to do some completely unnecessary yard work when I realise that I'm procrastinating like a pro and before my resolve can weaken I grab my purse and charge out of the house, skidding on the number still resting on the porch and careening into an empty driveway.

Crap! My car's still in the city.

Freya's is in the garage, she rarely uses it since the agreement was she'd pay the running costs and she's always got other _things_ to spend her allowance on.

Cursing I barrel my way back into the house, snatch her keys off the hook, and start again.

I love her car. Mine is practical, I can't afford to have problems with my commute so I gave up the 'antiques' I used to prefer a few years ago. Freya's tiny little import has character and always reminds me of a jello mould. It's so cute you just want to hug it. Dan and I had the idea that she'd be completely responsible for it but it never turned out that way. It needs quite a lot of TLC to keep it running and though she has the know-how it's her parents who lavish it with the care and attention it deserves.

It's a short drive to the hospital and I park up and survey it with trepidation. I'm not a fan of them, thanks to my klutzy and accident filled childhood. Over the years they've come to represent some bad things. Beserka Bella being one of them. So it's kind of ironic that I'm sat here looking at one today knowing full well that he probably _is_ inside, this time.

Fuck.

I don't know if I can do this.

I don't know how I'll function again if I don't.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Alright.

Here I go.

The little car rocks as I slam the door with more force than necessary.

"Sorry." I tell it, patting the hood.

The first thing that hits me in the foyer is that 'special' hospital smell, wrinkling my nose and evoking some seriously painful memories.

Oh well, I guess that's what today is all about, facing the painful memories.

There's no one manning the reception desk.

Of course, that would be too easy.

Should I wait, or stalk the corridors?

Or possibly leave and come back later . . . .

One of the sets of double doors that leads onto the foyer sweeps open and a phalanx of Doctors, coated in white and conferring seriously, strides through, crossing the space without noticing anything, and disappears through the opposite doors.

I venture through the doors after them and decide on the first corridor on the right . . . .

Empty.

Reaching the end I turn right again, this corridor is long and straight, the ceiling hung with signs advertising departments whose real purpose I can only guess at. I can see a crossroads ahead and a T-junction at the end. And I can hear footsteps approaching from all directions even though I'm currently alone. Jeez, I've wandered into a game of Pac-Man . . . . and my heart is racing.

And then I see him, rounding the corner at the end of the corridor, surrounded by an attentive group of Doctors and Nurses. Moving at a human pace that they're nevertheless clearly struggling to keep up with as they hang on his every word. I've never really seen him this way before . . . .

It's a mere three strides before his head snaps up and he seems to be staring straight at me. I guess he can smell me, even over the 'eau de hospital'.

My own steps dwindle to a halt and I bite my lip, overwhelmed by feelings of inadequacy, new and old.

It takes far too long and far too little time for him to reach me. And when he stops in front of me his team of acolytes _literally_ crash into him. I guess the great Doctor Cullen doesn't stop very often, and some of them will be sporting bruises they can't recall getting later on.

There's an infinitesimal pause, filled with, something, and then he smiles.

One of the female Doctors actually sighs.

They have that effect on people, the Cullens.

Hell, whether I like it or not, they apparently still have that effect on me too. I smile back at him. If Bren knew the full story she'd probably have me in a headlock right now, and aware of the reasons why, I hastily school my features into 'polite neutral', something of a speciality of mine . . . .

"Bella." There's that voice again. "I am so glad you were able to drop by this morning. I have rounds to finish, if you wouldn't mind waiting in my office?"

I nod, what else can I do now that I'm here?

"Good, thank you." He takes my elbow and turns to address his colleagues. "If you'll excuse me for a moment I'll just show Ms Swan to my office and be right back so we can continue?"

Murmurs of consent, as if they'd argue with him. Nods. Curious looks, barely hidden. Naked unfounded jealousy.

These are all the things I notice before he turns me deftly and guides me away down one of the branching corridors. I'll never find my way out of here . . . .

In moments he's ushering me inside a large but welcoming office.

"You'll wait?" He asks, gold eyes boring into mine.

Again I nod.

"Thank you." He seems to mean it. "I'll be back as soon as I can. I really appreciate your coming here. Under the circumstances. Really. Please help yourself to coffee, or whatever, I can have someone bring cookies, or if you'd . . . ."

He stops what was rapidly turning into a surprising bout of verbal diarrhea and shakes his head slightly with a rueful smile.

And then he's gone, the door closing quietly behind him.

After a count of three I let out the breath I've only just realised I'm holding and let myself look round.

One side of the office is lined with bookshelves, stuffed with medical journals and other frightening looking materials, the other with a credenza, fish tank and pot of coffee. The back wall is floor to ceiling windows with gauze drapes that barely obscure the utilitarian courtyard beyond. In front of the windows is a magnificent desk and luxurious looking leather chair. Two mildly less impressive ones sit before it, awaiting one of those painful hospital conversations that none of us want to have, but hinting at comfort anyway. Wow, Esme clearly hasn't lost her touch . . . .

Some of the patina of numbness that's been smothering me is clearly wearing off, because that last thought really _hurts_ . . . .

The flood gates, wall, barrier, whatever it is that stops me properly remembering them, him, _then_, they're not working so well right now. Which is probably to be expected, but still . . . .

Needing something to do I grab a porcelain mug and fill it with coffee.

There are photos on the desk, the back of the frames taunting me. But one is angled so the troubled occupants can get a sense of the 'humanity' of their Doctor.

And I recognise that fucking photo.

Baseball.

Doctor and Mrs Cullen. Adopted kids. And one mousy looking human.

Fuck!

I barely make it to one of the chairs before my knees give out.

I didn't even know that photo existed.

There's no sense, from the backdrop, of how far away from civilisation we actually were when that game was played.

No clue as to how false all but one of those happy smiles turned out to be when the going got tough. No inkling of what was about to emerge from the trees.

Why is it here . . . . on such public display?

Carefully, in case it sparks some chain reaction of biblical plagues, I set my coffee down on the desk and stand. Moving cautiously round to look at the other photos.

Carlisle and Esme. Arms wrapped around each other, laughing self-consciously. If you didn't know what I know you'd think that was taken last week, it's a head shot and the actual fashions of the time aren't that obvious.

Kids. Two by two. The odd one out crouched in front looking out of place but determined to put a brave face on it. Again, carefully selected so that the uninitiated can't put a date and time on it.

I close my eyes and will myself not to react, I've had nothing, all these years, except my fallible human memory, and it really hasn't done _him_, _them_, justice.

Determined to suck it up I open them again.

A wedding. The most beautiful, disdainful, woman in the world and a bear of a man whose happiness practically jumps out and pinches your cheeks, wobbling them frantically and painfully in his excitement.

A couple. Little and large. Holding each other tightly and barely giving any attention to the camera or its operator. So exquisitely absorbed in each other.

Him. Beautiful. Sad. Alone. Leaning, arms folded, against a silver Volvo and arching an eyebrow, with elaborate patience, at the camera holder.

Now my knees do give out again and I drop into Carlisle's desk chair.

I loved him, so much.

And I was nothing to him but a _distraction_ . . . .

"Nothing is what it seems . . . ."

I hadn't even heard him come in. But I used to be accustomed to such abrupt appearances and apparently that's enough to condition me not to react to his . . . .

"Happy families?" I ask in a flat tone that belies my jealousy and feelings of exclusion.

"Nothing is what it seems . . . ."

"If this is about you spouting homilies at me we can dispense with that." I assure him. "I'm not eighteen anymore and I have neither the time nor the patience."

Whoa. Get me . . . .

"I'm sorry . . . ."

"For what Carlisle?" Seriously, I'd really like to know.

He sighs, dropping into a chair opposite the desk, pinching the bridge of his nose in a way that suddenly drains all of the fire out of me.

"I don't know how to explain. Where to start."

I'm going to regret this, I really am.

"Start at the beginning . . . ."

So he does. . . .

…..

It was _interesting_ to see my memories through another person's eyes.

Really, it was.

I don't know how else to describe it.

Or how to absorb what he told me.

In fact. I can't recall if I even spoke. I know I didn't ask any of my questions. Some of them were rendered moot anyway.

Do I feel any different?

Is my life, shower style, any better?

I have no answer to that.

Just a lot to think about.

I didn't, I realise, even tell him about Freya and my concerns, though he seemed to know an awful lot about me regardless. Does he know about her? Do _they_ know about her? He's assured me that he hasn't said anything about finding me to them, but, under the circumstances, that's not going to last long, is it?

And then what happens?

Now, more than ever, I have absolutely no idea because this hasn't turned out in any of the ways I've imagined over the years . . . .


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 9 Reasons to be Cheerful**

**BPOV**

I can't remember the drive home, I just 'woke up' suddenly and found myself slipping the key into the front door.

Not even lunchtime and I feel like the day is over and I should be asleep. My eyelids feel like someone's stuck pennies on them.

I can't, however, ignore the angry vibrating of my cell any longer. So I heave myself onto one of the kitchen stools and fish it out of my purse.

I have several voicemails.

Jake.

"Hi, it's me, I'll be picking you up at eight tomorrow, like we said, hope that's still okay . . . . Does it make me pathetic if I tell you I've missed you these last couple of days?" Deep rumbling laugh. "Hope not anyway. Oh, and wear something warm . . . . Bye."

Oh god . . . .

Bren.

"Are you okay? I've been watching the live news feed. No brunettes have been found floating face down in the Delaware so I'm hoping you're at least kind of okay. It would be nice though Bells, to hear it direct from you, not that I'm pushy or anything . . . . Ted's got groin strain." Hysterical laughter. "Sorry, just picturing your face. Love ya, bye."

Ew . . . .

Freya.

"Hey Mom. Babysitting the Alots tonight. Cath's picking me up from school. Still got stuff over at their place so I'll be back in time for lunch on Sunday. You promised me a Grandma Swan special and I'm _so_ ready for it, the cafeteria's been even crappier than normal this week, I may be seriously starved of nutrients. Love you. Call me if you need me. Bye."

Bless her . . . .

Cath. Confirming Freya's call and hoping it's okay bearing in mind the suddenness, one of Dan's clients has invited them to his birthday party at short notice.

And the man himself.

"So, the force of nature that is Bren said I should check up on you. She didn't extend herself to giving me a reason why though, just so you know. So, this is me, the father of your child, doing what I'm told. I hope you _are_ okay and that you'll call me if I can do anything. _And_ that's quite enough mush, call me, bye."

I fight back tears. We might not have been fated lovers but Dan has been my best friend for years and no one has tried to take care of me for as long as he has. The over educated doofus even worried about proposing to Cath in case it ruined our weird little family dynamic. Which it so didn't.

Alright. I need to get a grip. There's not only me in this and I can't check out of my life just because I have a past that reality TV can't offer an easy way to deal with.

With single minded efficiency I rustle up a plate of snacks, a large glass of extremely cold white wine and a deep foamy bath.

I can't eat anything, but drinking doesn't seem to be a problem.

Wow, you really do grow up to be like your Mother, not that Renee was a lush or anything, she just used to retreat to the bathroom with a glass of wine when she needed time to evaluate stuff.

….

Out of the bath and flung on the bed, wet towel and all, it's my house and my rules, I finally manage to gain some 'traction' as Jeff would say.

They threw a party for me on my eighteenth birthday. It embarrassed me beyond words but since I hadn't had a birthday party since I was six, I was secretly rather pleased.

I cut my finger opening one of the gifts. Jasper tried to eat me. Frightening, but not exactly unexpected. Furniture was destroyed.

So far, Carlisle's memories and mine are in complete agreement, and I don't think either of us realised at the time that my future was also destroyed.

We both apparently expected trouble from _him_. But not what actually happened.

I remember being told that I was a complication not worth bothering with.

Carlisle remembers a good man making a selfless decision and destroying his own happiness in the process.

I remember being abandoned, without warning or explanation, by six additional people I'd come to care about deeply.

He remembers the harsh recriminations, the fighting, the pleading. Promises reluctantly made. Advice and then support offered to a son, a sibling, a loved one. A difficult decision, painfully accepted.

He feels sorry.

And I feel . . . . cheated.

Cheated out of my place in what he described, cheated out of my say.

I wasn't physically able to tell him what I went through. So I sat and listened to what I could tell was a heavily edited version of what they did. _He_ did.

I know I should have been angry but I couldn't seem to muster anything much beyond weary sadness, I still can't, even a couple of hours later.

I'm sure Freya would be calling me a doormat but what good is a pyrotechnic display of impotent rage going to do? I couldn't pull any of Carlisle's hair out if my life depended on it and I could only even try if he consented to let me.

The mental image of little old me furiously attacking his hair, my foot firmly planted on his thigh for leverage, while he sits patiently in his sumptuous leather chair actually makes me laugh, briefly.

God what a mess.

When he'd finished speaking we'd just sat there, looking at each other, neither of us sure what to say. I wanted to ask him if he felt better now he'd got all that off his chest but it seemed kind of rude and I'm not sure I could have forced the words out anyway. Besides, he didn't look any happier, almost as if speaking the words out loud actually made him realise how shitty their behaviour had been. I rather enjoyed the fact he looked as miserable as I felt.

Eventually I couldn't look at him anymore and I just got up and left. Walked straight out without even a backward glance.

As resolutions go it lacked a certain something.

I still have the problem of Freya going to school with them.

And I have a great deal of information about _him_ that I know I'm going to wish I didn't. I'm afraid to even try and think about it, in case my head explodes, and I'm strangely grateful for my eighteen year dedication to extreme mental, him related, avoidance.

…..

At some point I got dressed and went to the store to get the things I needed for the Grandma special.

I called Bren and assured her that I was alive and well. She invited herself to lunch on Sunday and pointedly reminded me that she'd be expecting to hear all about my date with Jake.

Jake. Oh god.

I called Cath to let her know I'd got her message about Freya and to invite her for lunch too, since she has, occasionally, been known to protect me from Bren.

Then I called Dan and told him I was perfectly all right, assuring him that 'that male model masquerading as a security consultant' was not the reason Bren was worried about me. They've obviously all been in cahoots because he invited himself to lunch too. Either that or he's not man enough to be in sole charge of the Alots.

Oh well, a full house is probably what I need right now anyway.

I probably should have called Jake and told him I'd be no fun to take out tomorrow night but I couldn't bring myself to do it, yet. Instead I did some strenuous chores so that I could reward myself with an impromptu wine night. I'm planning to hit it hard on the basis that I'm entitled to a least _one_ night where I don't have to think about anything.

…..

It's a sound enough strategy until I wake up on Saturday morning with a thick head, sour breath and a feeling of impending doom. It's not very often I get the chance to wallow in bed and usually I'd make the most of it, but today I can already tell that would be a big mistake. If I lie here worrying about whether or not Carlisle will keep me a secret, what happens if he doesn't or what he told me about _him_, then I'll go well and truly mad.

Besides, they left me once, why would they want to come looking for me now? Who knows, one whiff of 'Eau de Bella' and they might head for the hills again.

Argh! Surely to god I can find something else to think about.

Work for example, we've just won a major contract, someone, me, should be thinking about how we'll actually deliver it.

And I should probably call Jake and cancel tonight.

…..

The morning blurs by in a frenzy of largely unnecessary activity. I never realised I was a house proud 'neat freak' until Cath and Bren started pointing it out to me. I know it's true, somehow, even during the trauma of yesterday, I managed to find time to pick up the house number, polish it, and stow it somewhere safe for later reattachment.

Even though I'm not hungry I force myself to stop for lunch and then I'm off again. I should really call Jake . . . .

…..

At four I stop again, frankly, exhausted and out of mindless distractions.

I've let it a bit late to cancel on Jake. Was that deliberate? I don't know. I could, of course, still cancel. But I can't really recall why I was going to in the first place. I'm not placing him in any danger, at least I don't think I am, Carlisle's eyes were as gold as any other time I've seen him. I want to see him, spend time with him. Nothing's changed with regard to my unsuitability as a long term girlfriend nor his only being in town 'for a while'. It will be nice to have something else to focus on for a couple of hours. Am I being selfish? Considering using Jake, an extremely nice man, as a distraction?

But I want to see him, a little voice inside me protests, and that's not the same thing as just wanting to be distracted. He said he missed me, and I think, if I hadn't been dodging my demons I'd have missed him too.

It's okay to want to see him, isn't it? What would be the point of dating someone if you didn't?

Bren specifically wants to hear about tonight, which suggests that she one, knows I might think myself out of it, and two, thinks it's perfectly normal to go on a hot date even if part of your past has made a temporary reappearance.

Alright, what Bren thinks is perfectly normal isn't always what everyone else does, but she doesn't steer me wrong on stuff like this.

Fuck it. I'm going out . . . .

…..

Which how I find myself sitting on the window seat waiting for him to arrive four hours later . . . .

When his truck does pull up I don't even wait for him to ring the bell instead rush out to fling the door open, the huge smile of greeting dying on my face at the sight of his. His traffic stopping smile is gone, replaced by a scowl and a pair of hard, flinty, eyes.

What the fuck?

Without a word he pushes me inside and slams the door shut behind us.

He's practically vibrating.

"Jake, what's wrong . . . ."

It takes him a few moments to calm down by which time I'm embarking on my own full blown panic attack, I knew I should have cancelled tonight, I'm in no fit state to date, ever . . . .

"Bella, shit, I'm sorry."

Anything else he says is lost as he crushes me into this chest, wrapping his long arms around me tightly.

Slowly I start to relax, Jake's arms beat lunatic rocking, hands down.

"I'm so sorry." He says, easing his grip slightly and taking a deep breath. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just . . . . shit . . . . I don't even know how to explain . . . . I can't . . . . god, Bella, I'm so sorry . . . .I have to . . . ."

Suddenly I'm cold and alone as he backs up a step, and then another.

His eyes are filled with apology and his face is twisted with it but nevertheless he opens the door, slips through it, closing it firmly behind him.

For a second I'm frozen and then something inside me snaps and I wrench the door open.

"Jacob Black!" I shriek after his rapidly retreating form. "What the fucking hell?"

He stops in his tracks but doesn't turn around.

"I'm sick and fucking tired of no one bothering to explain to me what's going on. Of people just fucking walking away from me! So help me god if you get in that truck don't ever even fucking _think_ about coming back because . . . . You. Will. Not. Be. Welcome."

And on that melodramatic note I slam the door shut, giving it a swift kick for good measure.

So much for not feeling angry. I'm so incensed all of a sudden that I'd really, really, like to kill something.

Before I can select an inanimate object for termination the poor abused door opens again and Jake shuffles inside, his eyes still apologetic but his expression extremely guarded.

"Bella, I'm sorry, this is very difficult for me, I want to tell you everything but I literally _can't_. And even if I could, I don't know what you know, I don't want to . . . ." He sighs and balls his fists in frustration. "I don't want you to think I'm some kind of lunatic and I don't want to frighten you if there's no need."

"That's great Jake." I drawl with as much sarcasm as I can. "But since you've already done both those things it's a bit late to play the 'secret agent' card."

"Bella, this isn't about some stupid joke . . . ."

"Then what is it about, Jake?"

He sighs again.

"Got any beer?"

"I might have."

"Fancy a take out?"

"I might."

"I'll try Bella, I'll try to explain. I don't want to walk away from you."

I cave and lead the way into the kitchen as he shuts the door for the final time.

At least he's trying, it's more than he who shall not be named ever managed. I've no idea what's coming but the sense of impending doom is back and doing the Macarena all over my newly aching head. Some date this is turning out to be . . . .


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 10 Slowly, Slowly, Catchy Monkey**

**BPOV**

Drinks in hand and pizza ordered we settle at opposite ends of the center island, like protagonists at a highly charged political debate.

"How much do you remember about Forks?" He asks.

"Cold, wet, miles from anywhere."

He smiles slightly.

"It isn't that bad."

"Yeah." I snort. "It is."

"Alright, no reason for Olympic Real Estate to call you then?"

I shake my head and manage a small smile of my own. It's apparently very difficult to stay mad at Jake.

"Do you remember First Beach?"

I nod.

"Do you remember, in High School, when you guys came down from town to go surfing?"

Another nod.

"Do you remember the stupid story you flirted out of me?"

I swallow and manage to croak out a yes.

'The Cullens don't come here.' One of the boys from the Res had said.

The Cold Ones.

Does he know it was more than a story?

"You dated one of them, didn't you?" He asks quietly, watching me intently. "The Cullens."

Another swallow.

"Did you notice anything different about them?" His voice is even lower now.

This is where I should laugh and ask him if he's trying to tell me vampires are real after all these years, and threaten to take away his beer since one sip is clearly all it takes. Except I'm not that much of an actress.

"I always wondered, later, if you knew."

"Knew what?" I ask, voice even quieter than his.

"What they were."

I could clam up at this point and refuse to say anything but that's hardly helpful is it? So I decide to continue in the style he's set, confession without using the words.

"Yes."

We sip our drinks.

"Weren't you afraid?" He seems genuinely curious.

"Of them? No. Never."

We both lapse into silence, each of us, I guess, reviewing our secrets. Wondering where we go from here.

"Why are you asking me about them?"

He blows out a breath and sets his beer down on the counter.

"There aren't many of them, their kind, but they are out there."

I don't know if he's talking about vampires in general or the vegetarian variety, so I keep quiet.

"I run into them, from time to time."

Okay, he's lost me, no one, well mostly no one, runs into vampires and then walks away to talk about it.

"They leave a trail of death and destruction in their wake."

Yes. Some of them definitely do. I shudder and rub the scar on my hand, remembering.

A pounding on the door makes me jump, but not Jake, he seemed to be expecting it.

"Pizza Mrs Swan!" A familiar voice yells.

Thankful for the distraction I slip off my stool and rush out to collect it. Tipping the delivery boy, one of Freya's class mates, in the process. Then I busy myself setting out plates and all the other paraphernalia that grown-ups seem to need to eat what was once a simple, messy, fast food.

We eat in silence for a few minutes. I don't know about him but I'm not really hungry, it's just something to do.

"Not all of them." I don't know why I feel compelled to defend the Cullens but I do.

"Not all of them what?"

"Leave a trail of d-death and destruction."

"They seemed to do quite a number on you if I remember correctly." He observes and I shudder.

I remember that night vividly cold, numb and soaked to the bone. One of the guys from the Res, Sam Uley, found me in the end, lost in the forest. I can still recall, because it pops up from time to time in my dreams, the line of concerned faces that paraded past my lolling head as he carried me out of the trees and into the parking lot of the High School. Teenage Jake had been one of them. I wonder what other memories he has of that time, because I'm pretty sure that was the last time I laid eyes on him until he practically mowed me down on the sidewalk a few weeks ago.

If there is anything he doesn't look very happy about it.

"That wasn't because of what they were." I offer by way of explanation, abandoning the pizza and going for the wine.

"Wasn't it?"

"No Jake, it wasn't at least not directly."

"What about when you broke your leg?"

"I fell down a staircase."

"Sure you did."

I close my eyes for a moment, willing the memories away. The darkened ballet studio, the smell of the highly polished wooden floor, the way I slid across it when James threw me, crashing into one of the mirrors. The shattered glass, the blood, the pain when he leant down and snapped my leg like a twig. There's no way Jake could know about that.

We glare at each other.

"You know, Bella." He says softly, absorbing himself in tearing off another slice of pizza. "Honest communication is a two way street."

Damn. He's got me there.

"Alright. I didn't fall down any stairs. But they didn't do it, they saved me."

He harrumphs but doesn't comment and I wonder how long it's going to be before one of says the 'V' word out loud. Hell, for that matter I wonder how he even knows . . . .

"Why are you asking me about the Cullens?" I ask again.

He shakes his head, reaching for his beer like a defence shield.

"You know he's been here, don't you?"

"Who?"

"Carlisle."

To my surprise he visibly relaxes, I hadn't even realised he was still tense.

"No." He breathes quietly. "I didn't know it was him."

What?

"I thought you were in danger Bella. I thought one of their usual kind was coming after you."

My skin prickles but despite that I actually laugh. How funny is that? In all these years I never once even considered running into any vampires other than the Cullens. God, I need my own page on the Darwin Awards.

"But, if you didn't know he'd been here, how did you . . . ."

"I don't know any of their scents, they left before . . . ." He stops, shaking his head again and muttering something about me making him crazy.

"You can smell them?"

He just looks at me.

"But, how?" I mean, I know they smell wonderful, up close, but they're not exactly air fresheners.

He continues to look at me.

"Is this one of the things you _can't_ tell me?"

"Yes."

Alright. So he knew a vampire had been here, by scent apparently, but not which one. Which makes him what, exactly? The olfactory equivalent of Superman?

"You were going to leave me." There's an element of accusation in my tone that's leaked out by accident.

You thought a vampire had been here, a dangerous one, and you were just going to go. Ouch.

Well of course he was, you stupid woman, what was he going to do, slap it round the face with his glove and challenge it to a duel?

"No. Bella. I was _never_ going to leave. I was . . . . am . . . . going to protect you."

Leaving aside that the only protection I need from the Cullens is not to care about them I can't help but wonder what he was planning . . . . I've seen _him_ crush the side of a van with one hand and rip a tree out by its roots. I've watched _them_ play baseball, completely understanding why they needed the sound of thunder to cover the noise it made. I've not seen them at all when they move at their natural speed, just felt the wind of their passage whipping my hair against my cheeks. I've heard the metallic screech of one of them being torn to pieces.

"And how were you going to do that Jake, if I needed it?"

And, we're back to staring at each other in silence. Which makes it doubly bad that my mind has suddenly wandered to kissing that pouty look off his face. What in the sam hill is wrong with me?

"Sometimes Bella." He says quietly, eyes boring into mine. "You just have to take things on a little faith."

"I don't know if I have any faith left."

"I've never done anything to hurt you Bella, can we start with that?"

Not true!

"You used to pull my pig tails." That hurt like hell, though I never admitted at the time.

"You used to pin me down and give me Chinese rope burns. Though to be honest it was far worse when you used to pin me down and kiss me."

"You weren't complaining the other ni . . . ." Oh god, my hand claps over my mouth.

For a moment his megawatt smile dazzles me and then he's serious again.

"Alright Bella. There are things I can't tell you and there are things I shouldn't. I _want _to tell you everything. We were good friends once and I'd like to think we can be more than that in the future. And I'll understand if you don't think you can trust me, you can, but I'll understand." He heaves in a deep breath. "I want you to trust me Bella, I want that really badly. We both know we're talking about vampires, I'll say it, I don't mind, I know you're not going to call the nut wagon."

Pause

"You're not, are you?"

I shake my head.

"Good. " Another deep breath. "It freaks me out that you're still associating with them, they're so dangerous, but you don't have to tell me why, if you don't want to. I can't ask for that, considering I can't tell you . . . ."

"They're here." I blurt out. "I only just found out. Like Forks. Carlisle's working at the hospital and the rest of them are going to school with . . . . shit Jake . . . . they're at school with Freya."

He's across the room in a flash, long arms winding round me, cheek resting on the top of my head, almost hefting me off the stool and into his chest in the process.

"It's not what you think." I choke out. "They're not dangerous. I just don't want what happened to me to happen to her."

"What happened to you?"

Should I tell him? I've waited a lifetime to be able to share this with someone. But this is Jake. I _like_ Jake. I don't want to frighten him off, at least not any quicker than I'm bound to manage naturally. Bren, in dating guru mode, is in my head, telling me that sharing my romantic horror stories is the kiss of death to a new relationship. And right now I feel like what I have with Jake, supernatural crap and withheld information notwithstanding, could be the beginning of a relationship.

Yeah, sure. A very short one.

Have I managed any other kind? Maybe that's all I'm good for.

This feeling, the one I'm having right now, of comfort and protection, it's going to be kind of hard to give up. But not impossible.

"Bella?" Jake prompts me, grip tightening.

"I can't . . . ." I shake my head, inadvertently moistening his t-shirt with my stupid tears.

And suddenly he's vibrating again. Like a tuning fork. The movement resonating through my body. I don't understand it, but I get that its protective. And I find that really attractive in an ill-timed and totally inappropriate way . . . .

"Jake, please, they . . . ." Deep breath. "H-he didn't do anything more to me than any other feckless boyfriend. Please, trust _me_."

My arms snake around his waist, hugging him back just as tightly, willing him to believe me, to calm down. I can't cope if he goes storming off again, not now . . . .

"Sorry." He murmurs into my hair, thumbs stroking my back. "Sorry."

Gradually we both calm down.

And then he opens his mouth, inhaling. I've no idea what he's going to say but we're done, for now. The Cullens have taken over my life, again, in the last two days, and that's enough, all I can cope with. I've finally found someone I might be able to share my experiences with, for reasons I don't understand, but I don't want to do it now. I don't need his empathy in this moment. I need to be reminded that there's more to life than some crappy and highly unusual memories.

"Jake, please, I don't want to talk about it anymore. Not tonight."

"You know we need to talk about it, right?"

I nod, rubbing my cheek against his chest more than is strictly called for.

"I don't want to go." He admits.

"I don't want you to either." I acknowledge. "But, Jake, I'm a mess right now . . . ."

"Got any movies?"

"Chick flicks and, um, ah . . . ."

"Vampire movies?"

"Um." Not remotely embarrassing. Not at all. That I have just about every vampire movie ever made . . . .

"Under the circumstances I'll go for a chick flick, but I'll need beer."

"I've got beer."

"Then help me drag it to the couch, I'm a slob, I don't wanna get up again if I don't have to."

I snort some additional moisture into his t-shirt, for good measure, and he releases me, trailing me to the refrigerator, grabbing the beer and my wine, leaving me to collect my glass and follow him to the couch.

"Elucidate oh master." He drawls as he flops onto it and I bend over to inspect the DVDs.

"How conciliatory are you feeling?" I ask him.

"I'm pretty much prostrate here, you decide."

I snicker as I make a selection. He asked for it . . . .

…..

"Ew." He snorts, spilling some beer on my thigh. "That movie would have been over quicker if he'd just slashed his balls off and handed them over for her to use as earrings."

"Pig." I snicker.

"Whatever." He says, waving his arm grandly. "Lay another one on me."

"Alright." Whoa, staggering a bit here as I heave myself away from his side. "You asked for it."

I love this movie and it's only a little while in before I remember the character's name is Jake. Whatever, no symbolism was intended.

…..

"Okay." He allows as the credits roll. "That didn't totally suck."

I fall off the couch onto my knees and crawl over to the DVDs.

I'm so fucking drunk I can barely see straight.

"No more romance." Jake exhorts.

"Angst? Misery?"

"Jesus Bella." He snorts, cracking another beer. "How about some manly action, with guns and heroics?"

"Um?"

"Fine. Romance me. I can take it."

…..

"Are you crying?"

"No."

"Are you sure? Your cheeks are all shiny . . . ."

"I moisturise. It isn't anything for the modern – _hiccup_ – man to be embarrassed about."

"M-kay."

"You're drunk."

"I am not alone." I intone.

"Indeed you aren't. More wine?"

…..

"That one didn't make any . . . . hic . . . . sense at all."

"I know, right?" I mean, I know, I've seen it like a dozen times and I still can't get my head round what they were thinking.

"Ah crap, am I expected to have a sensible response to that?"

"Nah, let you off." I wave my hand, accidently smacking him in the face. "S'fucking Alaska, no one can be expected, _hic_, to make sense of fuckin' Alaska."

"We're both incredibly drunk."

"Know." I may be nodding, or the house could be bobbing up and down, who can say.

And abruptly I'm floating.

Snuggled into a warm chest.

Deposited into a cold bed.

Wrapped up in a thin comforter.

Sleeping . . . .


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 11 Family Fun Day**

**BPOV**

He needn't have tucked me up in bed. He should just have left me in front of the toilet. I can't drink. How old do I have to get before I learn?

"I'm dying . . . ."

"Not yet. Drink this."

"It's yellow."

"Yes it is."

"That can't be good."

"Bella, you slept on the bathroom floor, with your arms around the toilet bowl, you're in no position to judge."

"Why are you still here?" I moan. "I'm hideous."

"Babe, I've already made friends with the guest bathroom, and cleaned it. We're good here. Drink."

"Is this the 'Hangover Cure of Champions'?"

"Not quite. This is the hangover cure for wimps."

"Nice."

"I thought so."

"I don't normally do this."

"That's fine. Drink anyway. Someone's already called to confirm dessert. You're to 'ring them the fuck back' as soon as you're able."

"Bren."

"Think so. I was lying on the phone at the time and she was a bit muffled."

"How much did we drink?"

"Too much."

Amen to that.

"Bella?"

"Hm?"

"Are we good?" There's a world of unasked questions hidden inside that one but I'm too hung over to ferret out the implications.

"We're good, for now."

"Okay. We need to talk though."

"When I can I'll peel my face off the toilet seat and drink the cure, okay?"

"Okay. I'll be downstairs."

He sets the yellow Molotov cocktail on the counter and caresses me briefly between the shoulders before leaving.

I think that's the first time I've ever conducted a conversation with a guy's knees.

…..

An hour later, and decidedly fragile, I make it down to the kitchen just as he ends a conversation on his phone.

"Okay?" He asks.

"I shouldn't drink." I mumble, placing the empty Molotov glass carefully in the sink and leaning over it.

His huge warm body comes up behind me and his arms lips round me, pulling me gently into his chest so he can rest his chin on the top of my head. Sighing I close my eyes.

"Want me to help you get started on lunch before I go?" He murmurs.

Oh god. Lunch.

Cooking. Screaming Alots. Pointed questions. Wine.

My stomach threatens to turn over. No way will I be drinking any more wine.

"Jake, you don't need to help me, this hangover a self-inflicted injury, I'm going to suck it up in the interests of personal growth."

He chuckles, planting a kiss on the top of my head.

"You could stay for lunch though, if you'd like?"

His arms tighten a little.

"Are you sure?" He asks.

Am I?

Yes. I think so. Rightly or wrongly. Probably very wrongly, on very many levels. Jake's a good guy, I think. A childhood friend, son of my Dad's best friend. He's in town, why shouldn't he come for lunch with my 'family'? I wouldn't have thought twice about inviting him if we'd stayed just friends. Shit, this stuff is complicated . . . .

No it isn't.

You like him. You don't want him to leave. You want to spend time with him. You don't, apparently, seem to care that he's keeping secrets from you. Your default position is to give people the benefit of the doubt.

Freya.

Hasn't met him yet but knows about him. What if she finds it weird? This is her home. She should be able to eat dinner in it without feeling uncomfortable.

"Bella?"

"_Jake_ . . . ."

"Bella." He hums, turning me into his chest and rocking us gently as I meltdown. "It's okay, it's okay. Shush. Bella. I don't have to stay. It's okay. There's a lot going on. I understand. Shush. It's okay."

"I . . . . we . . . . they . . . . what if . . . . leaving . . . . don't know . . . . sorry . . . . stupid fucking secrets . . . . don't know the etiquette . . . . Grandma Swan's special . . . . vampires . . . . want to . . . . don't want to . . . . E-E-E-Ed-Edw . . . . can't . . . . ruined . . . . _Jake_ . . . ."

…..

I probably won't see him again. What was the point to my resolve last night? If I was only going to dissolve into mush this morning?

Fortunately for all concerned I can cook Grandma Swan's special on autopilot, which is lucky, because that's exactly what I'm doing.

I don't know if everyone has a pitch of misery below which they can't sink. Or if everyone has an inner rock that surfaces when it all goes too far. Or maybe there's just a level of insanity that actually helps you function. Perhaps I'm tapping into a strength I didn't know I had. Or maybe, most depressing of all, I'm just used to this . . . . _shit_.

Cath and Freya arrive first. Bursting into the kitchen, picking up any task I throw at them with enthusiasm and loud chatter.

Bren arrives next, noisily subsumed into the productive chaos, along with her legendary Banoffee Pie.

And then Dan is here. The Alots igniting chaos in the kitchen, den and living room, like the combustible materials they are.

The house is full of life and noise.

And I'm part of it, I realise, just as I always am. Is it not me swinging the eldest Alot around by his armpits, squealing as loud as he is?

So I got my heart broken.

Boy did I.

But I didn't die.

Somehow, without realising it, I made another life. Other loves.

They're all around me. Spilling food all over my table. Talking, laughing, arguing, about the most inconsequential stuff. Making aeroplane noises, waving their forks, loaded with food, around to illustrate their points. Drinking. Gently teasing me. Complimenting me on Grandma Swan's awesome recipe, which I refuse to share. Talking about what awaits Freya in college next year.

And, I get it, I really do. The normal human life.

…..

Eventually the Alots need to be taken home for a nap, not that Freya's much more awake, Grandma Swan will do that to ya . . . .

And before I know it, I'm alone, with Bren.

The Big Girl Panties that words are often written about

"So. We're off the vino I see."

I nod, curling my legs under me on the couch and nursing my sparking mineral water.

"Heavy night?"

"We stayed in in the end, had pizza, watched a couple of movies, drank too much."

"Hm."

"So, what's his name?"

"Whose?"

"The Forks Heartbreaker."

"Oh, that wa . . . ."

Ah. Yeah Bren, that wasn't him, that was his Dad. How do I explain that one? Especially if she ever actually meets the real cause of the problem in all his seventeen year old glory.

"That was Carlisle."

"Must have been an odd name on a High School kid." She observes. "Looks good on him now though."

"He's a Doctor."

"Figures." She huffs.

"Um?"

"Did you talk to him?"

I nod, inspecting some lint on the knee of my sweats.

"And?"

"It's complicated Bren."

There is a lengthy pause, during which I wonder just how hard she's going to push me to open up. Then she speaks again, reminding me why she's such a great friend.

"But you still saw Jake last night."

I nod.

"And he stayed the night?"

"He slept on the couch."

"Ahuh. He told me that when I called."

I sigh, unfurling my legs and stretching out.

"So, how come you didn't go out?"

"Neither of us felt like it I guess."

She eyes me for a moment, noting my blush and classic 'I'm hiding something from you' body language.

"What did you do?" She asks finally.

"Me? Nothing."

"Humph."

Again, what to tell her? He had a funny turn. We have some other 'Forks Friends' in common. Turns out he can smell vampires. And he has secrets too. It was all a bit much so we stayed in and got wasted . . . .

"It was _difficult_ Bren." Is all I can offer, what with being a craptastic liar and all.

"He's a nice guy Bells, don't let your past balls up your future."

And with that warning deftly delivered she moves onto another topic entirely.

…..

Bren left around four to see Ted.

Freya emerged at about the same time, voraciously hungry, and then took herself back up to her room to finish her homework. Which apparently requires extremely loud music and a lot of banging around that may, or may not, be dancing.

I cleaned the kitchen once more, just for good measure, started some laundry and then flaked out on the couch losing myself for an hour or two in the world of other people's drama via the TV.

…..

My cell wakes me up some time later.

"Hey, you okay?" Jake asks in that rich deep voice.

"Yeah . . . ." A huge yawn escapes me. "Fell asleep on the couch."

"It is a very comfortable couch." He chuckles.

"I'm sorry about my meltdown earlier." I mumble.

"I told you, it doesn't matter to me. I'm kind of pleased you at least tried to explain how you felt, I couldn't understand a lot of it though, what with all the sobbing and sniffing that was going on."

"Wow. Thanks Jake." I groan. "I feel _so_ much better about it now."

"You're welcome. I have that effect on people I'm told."

"What, the crying and inducement of copious amounts of snot?"

"Ha. Funny Bella. No. The making them feel better part."

"And how are you going to make me feel better?" I ask, realising that my husky 'just woke up' voice and the words could be taken in any number of ways.

"Phone sex Bella?" He laughs. "Are you sure you wanna do that before we have the real stuff?"

"Jake!" I huff, going beet red even though he can't see me.

"Sorry." He doesn't sound it. "My bad. I couldn't resist it."

I giggle. He_ is_ making me feel better.

"So Wednesday." He says. "I scored us some tickets to see that comedian you were talking about last week. Shall we?"

"Please."

"Excellent, if you don't have to head home first I could pick you up from work, we could get something to eat too?"

"Sounds perfect."

"It does doesn't it." He drawls.

"Okay." I snicker. "You need to go rest that ego and I need to get ready for bed."

"Want some help with that?"

"Jake."

"Night Bella, I'll talk to you tomorrow.

"Night."

Maybe I haven't ruined everything. And he _has_ made me feel better. Go figure . . . .

…..

Alternately sighing, smiling and sighing again over the last few days, I busy myself transferring wet clothes to the dryer and wondering if I've the energy left to start another load. Even with one, almost grown up teenager, there's always another load.

A knock at the door startles me and sends my heart plummeting down into my suddenly leaden feet.

This can't be good. This can't be good. It could be Jake, come to help me get ready for bed . . . .

I open the door slowly.

Nope. No good here.

"Carlisle."

"I'm sorry Bella, is it too late for visitors?" He asks quietly, looking embarrassed. "I can never tell, since we don't . . . . well, you already know that."

I guess all hours are visiting hours when you don't sleep.

"Why are you here?" I ask.

"I didn't want to leave everything, the way we did, we still need to talk. _You_, probably, still need to talk."

"And you want to do that now?" Stupid question Bella, clearly he does or he wouldn't be stood on your porch.

"It is too late, isn't it?" He queries, the double meaning of his words clear.

"I can't Carlisle, not tonight, it's been a long day and I have work in the morning."

"I understand."

Taking a deep breath I marshal my courage.

"My daughter." I begin quickly. "The others are at her school. Did you know that?"

"No, I didn't, but I suspected, when I realised that you had one."

"I don't want her harmed Carlisle. You owe me that. I need you to promise me."

"Bella." He gasps, looking offended. "None of us would ever . . . ."

"I'm not talking about any of you draining her Carlisle."

"Ah." He hums quietly, getting that sad guilty look on his face again. "I promise Bella. None of us will involve her in our lives."

"Even when they find out about me?" I press.

"Even then." He assures me, looking even sadder and I note, for future consideration, that neither of us is expecting me to be a secret for ever.

"And _he_ won't . . . ." My words fail me and I shake my head, fighting back tears.

"No Bella. He _won't_." Carlisle assures me sadly. "You were then and always will be, the only woman he sees."

"Fuck." I mutter, managing to give him an apologetic half smile as I close the door gently but firmly in his face.

"Goodnight Bella." He says softly from the other side.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 12 Consummation**

**BPOV**

So, I cried myself to sleep, then apparently slept like a log because we're late this morning, Freya and I, stomach churning, shouty late. Which is probably as funny as hell to anyone lucky enough to see it in action.

What's worse is that Bren's picking us up because my car's still in the city. Thank god I've got a parking permit or the fines would make a Rockefeller wince. . . .

We're so late that Freya lets Bren and I drop her off at school without any of the usual disparaging comments about how embarrassing we are to be seen with.

It's not until we're turning into the parking lot that I realise what a horrendous mistake this could be and I lurch forward, banging my head on the back of Freya's seat, she always gets to ride shotgun in Bren's car, as I pretend to be furiously searching for something in my purse.

"God Mom!" Freya groans, leaping out of the car and slamming the door shut.

Thank god, a quick getaway.

But no.

"Hey young lady!" Bren yells, rolling down the window. "No slamming doors on the Camaro or I'll stop buying you that vaginal cream!"

I glance up, I can't help it, the evil parent in me needs to see the look on Freya's face. And it was worth the risk. It's priceless, a Kodak moment if ever there was one. I'm still laughing as Bren peels out of the lot, scattering students in all directions.

"That was mean." I tell her when I calm down.

"She's been warned before." Bren says darkly.

"She'll get you back." I caution her.

"She can try." Bren scoffs.

My cell beeps.

'Tell B, if my 'itchy vag' is the only thing that gets talked about in school today she i D'

I shake my head and stow it back in my purse. She used to be such a sweet, innocent, child.

…..

My thoughts veer toward he who shall not be named a few times during the day but I've so much work to do, after last week, that I manage to divert them successfully right up until the point Freya's bedroom door slams behind her for the night.

And then its time, I recognise, to at least attempt to prod the wound.

Later, curled up around the comforter and my pillows, I give it a try.

What he did and the reasons Carlisle said he did it do not, in any way, tie up.

God, this is hard, and shaming, my chest is already tight.

No, I can't do it, I don't even know where to start.

It's just words. Someone else's words. Not even _his_.

H-he's obviously the consummate liar.

But who did he lie to?

What he did to me, what he said to me, it didn't feel like a lie.

It still doesn't, the memory of it overpowers everything Carlisle's said. _Everything_.

Maybe I'll never know the truth.

My eyes are dry and scratchy, not filled with tears, just heavy and uncomfortable as they close. Possibly there's only so much crying a body can do.

I feel . . . . tired . . . . exhausted . . . . fatigued . . . . _miserable_ . . . . incomplete . . . . and very, very, sleepy . . . .

…..

Tuesday morning my neighbour, Mr Carmody, accosts me in the driveway as I'm leaving for work and witters on about naked people.

I've no idea, not that I ever do, what he's talking about, the poor man has Alzheimer's, but I make placatory noises, I've had the practise, until his nurse comes out and ushers him back inside.

…..

Wednesday starts with a sense of anticipation and foreboding.

Tonight I'm going out with Jake.

The guy I like.

The one who's keeping secrets from me. The one who isn't, apparently, the clean break with my past I thought he was.

Anticipation wins out and I pack accordingly.

…..

"Jake?" Bren asks, as I return from the toilets in a conspicuous change of clothes and slavered, for me, in makeup.

"He's picking me up."

"Good." She decides, putting on her coat. "Have fun, do whatever I'd do."

I roll my eyes and she pats my shoulder as she leaves.

…..

If it wouldn't give me heartburn I'd wonder if he can read my mind.

Conversation over dinner, Thai, is easy and light. Seriously, is there no end to his Charlie and Billy stories? Or their distractive prowess?

.

The comedian is every bit as funny as I've been told. Honestly, I laughed so hard I've probably gotten a hernia.

…..

"I wish I could drive you home." Jake sighs as he pulls up beside my Mercedes.

"You can follow me, if you want?" I offer quietly.

"It will be my pleasure." He responds, pressing his lips briefly to my forehead.

…..

I've barely made it out of my car before his long arm is around my waist, pressing me into his side and hampering my ability to walk so that we _meander _up onto the porch. We make our way into the house like that, joined at the hip, and I kind of like it.

In the kitchen we split up, me heading for the coffee maker and him for the refrigerator.

"Wine?" He asks, inspecting the contents.

"Why?" I ask suspiciously. "Are you planning on giving me bad news?"

"No." He says, turning and hiding the bottle behind his back, looking for all the world like a naughty little boy.

"Humph." I turn to lean against the counter, crossing my arms over my chest and raising my eyebrow, Mom style.

"No." He shakes his head, flashing all his teeth in a winning smile. "I am planning to tell you something that might make you a little bit cross though."

"A little bit cross?"

"Yeah. Not shrieking obscenities down the street cross, like you were last time. Just, if I take a sip of wine while I calm down I won't shout at him, cross."

Despite my sudden spike of alarm I can feel the heat creeping across my cheeks. I'd successfully repressed that memory, god I hope none of the neighbours heard.

"I'll work with coffee." I offer eventually and he puts the wine away and sidles up to wrap his arms around me again while we watch it brew.

It's a quiet, comfortable moment into which my anxiety gradually leaks.

When we're perched on our stools, facing each other, knees touching I take a deep breath to brace myself.

"Alright. Lay it on me."

"Hey." He says quietly. "It's not that bad."

"I'll be the judge of that."

He pats my knee briefly and takes his own deep breath.

"Okay. So. I spoke to the lee-ahem-Carlisle Cullen."

"You what?!"

Now I realise why he's scooted us so close together, I don't actually have room to get up without tipping us both on the floor. Tempting, but no.

"Why would you, how did you? What?"

"He knew I'd been here. He was looking for me too."

"Why?"

"He could smell me."

My eyes narrow.

"Jake, humans come here all the time, why would he look for you specifically?"

"I knew this would be hard." He grumbles, sipping his scalding coffee. "Can you please just trust me?"

"You're here aren't you?" I huff ungraciously.

"I'll take that." He responds flashing me his panty wetting grin which I refuse to be affected by under the circumstances.

"Okay. Anyway. He didn't know I'd been here. Just that someone _like_ me had."

"Someone like you?"

"Bella, trust, please. There are things I can't . . . ."

"Don't tell me you can't tell me things." I say in a rush, flinging up my palm. "It irritates me more than you'll ever know. Let's just take as read that you're hiding stuff and I'll get mad about it in my own time."

"I don't want you mad at me." He says seriously, putting his mug down and resting his hands lightly on my knees.

"I don't see a way round it if you're not being straight with me." I point out and he sighs heavily, closing his eyes for a moment before opening his mouth to speak.

"And don't tell me you're sorry." I cut him off. "You can't apologise for something you're knowingly doing anyway."

He closes his mouth and we both stare at each other in miserable realisation. We're trying here, both of us, because we want to, but we might actually be flogging a dead horse. I trust, I think, that he's not withholding from me through choice, but ultimately I don't see how that can end well. When I'm already mourning the loss of something I haven't even had. I could, and probably should, cut out now. But I don't want to. Instead I feel strangely compelled to cram in as much as I can with him before the things we're hiding bring whatever this is to its inevitable end.

Gently he tugs the mug from my hand and places it on the counter, his eyes staring into mine with a desperate hunger that makes me swallow convulsively and lick my lips in anticipation.

"Bella . . . ."

I don't know who flung themselves at whom. And I don't care.

I only care that I can feel his warmth. His tongue in my mouth. His hands grappling the clothes from my body, mine on his.

I don't care how we made it up the stairs and onto my bed. I only care that his hard body is pressing mine into the mattress, writhing with it. That my shirt, his shirt, my bra, are gone, that I can feel his skin against mine. His surprisingly soft hands on it, roaming over it, caressing it, squeezing it, heating it, from the outside in. Lips, tongues and teeth are exploring and teasing everything they can reach as we gasp for breath between increasingly rough kisses.

A part of me is wondering when I'm going to wake up to what's about to happen and, considering the less than salubrious circumstances, put the brakes on it. The rest of me has been looking forward to this since he held my hands over the table at Berto's, and, barring fire and flood, has _no_ intention of being denied.

Slowly, as if he can hardly bear it, returning for kiss after kiss, he pulls away from me and I watch him, one hand in his hair, the other ghosting over his giant shoulder as he divests me of my boots, socks (Pokémon), skirt and panties. I should be embarrassed as he gazes down at me in all my naked unglory, and my cheeks do heat up, but the look on his face is more than enough to keep me watching it. It splits into that traffic stopping smile and then his mouth slants down over mine again. My hands slip down his glorious back and into his jeans, squeezing appreciatively. Then they slide back up as his head dips to taste my aching nipples. Kissing them, sucking at them, nipping them until my body is straining up against his and indecorous sounds are escaping my mouth.

Oh god, that feels so good.

"Jake . . . ."

His big hands almost meet around my waist as he nibbles his way down my body between them. Lavishing each hip bone with attention before purposefully parting my thighs and looking up at me briefly, eyes dark with desire.

And then there's toe curling warmth and wet between my legs. I love that, oh how I _love_ that . . . .

"Jake . . . ."

He hums into me and I arch my back in response, unable to make sense of what I'm feeling. Warm, wet, pressure. Hot breath. Long fingers caressing my thighs, the backs of my knees. Silky hair, slipping through my grasping fingers, brushing my skin, teasing it, turning it to gooseflesh . . . .

"Jake . . . . oh god . . . . _Jake_ . . . ."

My body rears off the bed, heels and shoulder blades supporting me, heat floods my taut muscles, my vision goes black and then explodes with colored light, my vocal chords straining to make any noise above a strangled moan as I ride out my orgasm to the rhythm of his gently slowing tongue.

Oh god, _Jake, Jake_ . . . .

The tongue, mouth and lips, that make their way slowly up my shuddering and sweat moistened body, setting it leaping and twitching in their wake, as they meander their way between my heaving breasts, up the column on my throat and back to my open gasping mouth . . . .

I'm so focussed on the feel of his superheated, nearly naked body, pressing into mine, that I barely register the taste of 'me' in his mouth, I just need to kiss him, to let him know how desperately I stilI want him. Want him to be moving inside me. With jerky uncoordinated movements we manage to rid him on his pants and boxers, both of us momentarily satisfied by the feel of our bodies, naked, and fully pressed against each other. Then we're wild again, grabbing, grasping, hands. Frantically duelling tongues. Undulating bodies.

My fingernails dig into the small of his back as he's finally pressing himself to the place I want him most.

"Please . . . ." I moan, lifting my legs to wrap around him, opening myself to him. "Oh Jake, _please_ . . . ."

Moving his hips he breaches me, pulling out and then pushing back in again. Further. And again. God, it feels so good . . . . it already feels so good.

Our kisses slow to the rhythm of our bodies as they move unhurriedly but purposefully together. His hands are in my hair, elbows holding me tightly as they support him. Mine are roving over his lower back as I coax him deeper into me.

"Bella . . . . oh Bella . . . . so good . . . . we feel so _good_ . . . ." He whispers into my neck as his kisses trail down it. "You feel so good . . . ."

I throw my head back, moving it slowly from side to side as he takes nips at the skin of my throat, fills me completely and then begins to plunge himself into me in earnest. Pulling and pushing the flesh inside me in an almost unbearably pleasurable way.

He rears up, holding his weight on one powerful arm as his free hand ghosts over my shoulder and cups my breast, thumb strafing the hardened peak. Moaning I glance down at the muscles flexing in his abdomen, the ebb and flow of our joined bodies as he glides in and out of me. My moan turns to a gasp as his hand, splayed and firm, smooths the length of my body, lowering one of my legs and exposing my clit to his delicate touch.

Oh god. Those twin sensations. An overabundance of spiralling gratification.

I want to watch the concentration and _desire_ on his face, I want to watch us move together. But I can't . . . . the power of sight has left me . . . . . possibly because my eyes have rolled back into my head . . . .

"Jake . . . . oh god . . . . _Jake_ . . . ."

My nails must be gouging lumps out of his glorious russet skin as my hands contract, holding onto him for dear life . . . .

Without vision all I can do is _feel_. Feel him move inside me, feel him touch me, feel myself come apart around him, under him, because of him . . . .

_Every_ muscle in my body snatches tight, jerking my limbs, my jaw, my back, into a seemingly never ending rictus.

He grunts softly as he continues to thrust into me, suddenly working against the muscles inside, the ones which stretched and welcomed him and are now grasping at him with a strength I didn't know they had . . . .

And just as I think I'm going to be caught in this exquisite blind tension forever, heat explodes through every cell in my body, and the scream that's been trapped inside me releases along with everything else.

"_JAKE_!"

Abruptly I'm as limp as wet noodle, tingling aftershocks the only thing still animating me as his hand thuds into the pillow next to my head.

"_Bella_ . . . . _ungh_ . . . ."

He's beautiful as he throbs and cums inside me. His sweat sheened body angled away from mine as he drives himself deeper. Head thrown back, chords of his neck standing out, groaning loudly as his movements slow to a stop.

His head flops forward and our eyes meet.

Slow, happy smiles, breaking out on both our faces.

"_Bella_." He whispers as he lowers his body to cover mine, chest to heaving chest.

And he kisses me.

The softest, sweetest, longest, kiss.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 13 Pandora's Box**

**BPOV**

It wasn't classically romantic. The earth didn't move. There were no poetic words or breathily expressed declarations. Choirs of angels didn't sing. No one's spirit went soaring into the ether on a rolling wave of orgasmic bliss.

And I'm glad.

Because I don't think any of that stuff can truly be real. And I don't believe something that intense could last, even if it existed in the first place.

What I do believe is that two people can be attracted to each other, share that attraction, bring each other pleasure and happiness, care for each other, without having to set the world on fire with the explosive fusion of their souls.

Though frankly, for the record, some sheets may have been scorched in the making of this love.

That thought makes me snicker.

"Something funny?" A sleepy voice asks.

I shake my head, wiggling my body back into his. Not suggestively, but just because he's warm and huge, and I can.

He accepts me easily, folding his large frame around me and tightening his arms with a happy hum.

"Please tell me we don't have to get up." He pleads.

"We do, in about ten minutes."

"Damn. I don't want to be a responsible grown up."

"Responsibility is thrust upon us I'm afraid."

"Buzz kill." He mutters into my hair.

"Less talking, more snoozing. We're down to nine minutes."

"Yes ma'am."

…..

We didn't talk much over breakfast.

But we touched and kissed, a lot.

And then we got into our cars and made our way back into the city, getting separated on the outskirts.

We didn't finish our talk from last night, it didn't seem _necessary_, not this morning. We did, however, arrange to have dinner at my house on Saturday night. We'll talk then, about everything I guess. I don't know what will come of it, but I know we both want it to be something good. And, ultimately, I'm sure that's all anyone can really ask for.

…..

I managed to keep my mind on work and nothing else, master avoider that I am, right up until Freya packed herself off to bed. My body might be exhausted but my mind is not tired enough for me to sleep yet and, unwilling to face a couple of hours wallowing in my situation, I've finished the washing up and am on my way back across the hallway for some quality couch time when there's a soft knock at the door. Loud enough for me to hear but far too quiet to make it up the stairs to the only other occupant of the house.

I hesitate beside the door. And then I open it, because I'm polite like that.

He really is extraordinarily good looking. More so than any of the others, even _him_ really. Perhaps it's the Doctor thing. The face and body of a blonde Greek god filled with a level of compassion that most _humans_ could never aspire to.

I don't like the compassion in his gold eyes now. I know I'm dodging the inevitable, they're here, they, and the issues they represent, will have to be dealt with at some point, like verrucae. Those eyes are telling me that I'm making it worse for myself by putting it off. And that he understands, or thinks he does, exactly what it is I'm putting off.

And just like that, after all these years, the wheels come off the Bella Swan Avoidance Wagon.

There is no fainting, no great outpouring of pain and grief, no winding my arms around my torso to hold me together. Instead my shoulders sag as I lead him wordlessly into the kitchen and my mind goes where it is very rarely allowed, Forks.

They fascinated me, of course they did, they were so attractive, so separate from the rest of us. And he was quite simply the most beautiful boy I'd ever laid eyes on. Perfectly sculpted features, dark intense eyes and wild hair the color of burnished bronze. I was a little shocked that he seemed to hate me on sight, but in all honesty I think that just deepened my interest, what on earth could little old me have done to get his attention let alone provoke such a strong reaction?

When he said he couldn't stay away from me any longer I might as well have just cut my heart out of my chest and handed it over on a silk cushion, with brocade round the edges, and possibly some portentous trumpeting in the background.

Writers of romantic fiction have a great deal to answer for in my opinion. These days if you wrote a series of books for teenage boys extolling the virtues of solving all your problems with the pointy end of a sword you'd probably get locked up, but apparently it's okay to write books encouraging teenage girls in the misguided belief that you're entitled to a happy ever after with whoever or whatever your hormones fixate on.

It wasn't exactly a rousing courtship. The smell of my blood was particularly appealing to him, heroin he called it, and to say we had to take things slowly was an understatement. But we worked together, we really did. For a while.

His sister, Alice, quickly became my best friend. His brother, Emmett, the older sibling and thorn in my side I never had but always longed for. Carlisle and Esme were the loving couple I'd once dreamed of my parents being. Emmett's wife Rosalie and Alice's husband Jasper were both pretty scary and more vampire like than the others but even they accepted me and looked out for me. And I thought, believed, that one day he would make me a vampire and a Cullen, and everything would be right with the world.

I wanted it so badly I refused to see a future where it didn't happen.

When some nomadic vampires, passing through Forks, tried to make a game out of having me for lunch I was, ultimately, quietly resigned to dying. Better me than anyone I cared about. The Cullens, Renee, Charlie. I didn't die, I got the scar on my hand from James's bite, but I didn't get made into a vampire. Ed-he sucked the venom out before it could happen. I was disappointed but I thought I would wear him down with love and inevitability.

The future was bright and sparkled in the sunlight.

I can remember, despite him telling me that I wouldn't, with complete clarity, the way teenage me felt about him and all of this at the time. It's why I avoid thinking about it. Because it _hurts_. I loved him. With every fibre of my romance novel conditioned teenage being.

And I always will.

But I find, now, that my interpretation of those memories is colored by my age, by having lived a whole lifetime again since he left me to get lost in the forest.

I was a lonely awkward child and in my naivety I mistook the feeling of belonging that being accepted by the Cullens brought me as, well, _belonging_. That monumental presumption on my part is something I stopped thinking about because it makes me burn with shame, the fact is I just wasn't enough of _anything_ to really be one of them. I thought their kindness toward me was familial love and their protectiveness proof. When they abandoned me I eventually realised what a needy little fool I had been. And I hated myself for feeling the pain of their loss when they were never mine in the first place.

But of course, _that_ realisation took a long time to come. Because all I could focus on was the hole in my chest and the absence of _him_. I really did believe the fusion of our souls was going to set the world on fire. I lived and breathed it. I fancied I saw it in every look we gave each other, felt it in every touch, heard it in every word, gave it wings with every kiss. He second guessed himself at every turn and it was me, the hopelessly romantic little human who kept bringing us back to the fact that we were meant to be together, to stay together. I was seventeen and completely unable to read the warning signs. Yes, I sometimes wondered why it was me that seemed to be doing all the work but then I'd remind myself that it was actually physically painful for him to be around me without draining me, that he had to watch his every supernatural move to avoid killing me accidentally, and then I'd get to wondering why he was bothering. So I wasn't exactly surprised when he decided he'd had enough.

They gave us eggs to look after at school once, we had to pretend they were babies for a week and bring them back in mint condition. I broke mine on the way home from school the first day and cried guilt ridden tears for the rest of the week. The replacement egg Renee gave me haunted my every waking hour, taunting me with what I'd lost. A little like having Jake in my life is doing now.

Carlisle says he left, made them leave, to protect me. Because he loved _me _with every fibre of _his _being. That _he_ genuinely believes, and still does, that _he_ did the right thing. And honestly, if that's true, which I still can't see, that might actually break me, once and for all.

With a gusty sigh I lift my eyes to find Carlisle watching me patiently.

What does he want me to say?

It's all okay. I'm a grown up now. Water under the bridge. Make sure my daughter stays out of it. Keep him the hell away from me because that's the one thing I can't cope with. I've heard there's not a lot of sun in Maine this time of year, move there. Yes, I know, you want me to talk and I haven't said a word but baby steps, you made me think about it, take it out for some fresh air and that's more of a start than I wanted.

"You don't have to tell me anything." He observes.

"I know that."

He nods.

"It might help if you did."

"Why are you bothering with me?"

"Really?" He asks, raising a golden eyebrow. "Shouldn't you be asking why I'm bothered _about_ you?"

I shrug. I know the distinction but I'm not going to think about what he means by it. For obvious reasons. Teenager or not, there's something deeply scarring about a man like Carlisle deeming you not worth bothering about.

Or whatever the hell the excuse was he came up with.

I narrow my eyes at him, cancelling out the blonde compassionate perfection with my memories.

He never did anything to hurt me except leave. Like most of them. Except, maybe, as the _adult_, he could have stopped it, if he'd wanted to. But then wouldn't that have been supremely awkward for all concerned? Would _he_ have left on his own, just to get away from me? Couldn't there have at least been some middle ground? An email address that hadn't been deleted wouldn't have killed anybody would it? So I could at least talk to my best friend, know they were all okay.

"Bella, I . . . ."

I recognise that look on his face, it eerily reminiscent of Jake's last night.

"Don't Carlisle." I snap with more force than I intended. "Don't apologise. Its meaningless and it changes nothing."

"I wasn't going to." He says quietly. "You already know I'm sorry."

"You left me. All of you. Without a word of explanation. You let me believe you didn't care about me. Any of you." The words are coming thick and fast now and it's a struggle to keep the emotion out of them and my voice down. "And now, you turn up out of the blue, tell me that it was all a lie, a carefully crafted one to protect me. And you expect me to believe that?"

He shakes his head and lowers it to inspect his hands.

Good. I can be much ruder to the crown of his head.

"You want me to talk about it? What's the point? Since apparently none of the things I've thought or felt in the last eighteen years are real?"

"You're angry." He whispers without looking up.

"Please." I groan. "Don't make that sound like it's a good thing. If I am it's as meaningless as your apology. I don't even know what the fuck I should be angry about."

"Edw . . . ."

"No." I interrupt him emphatically. "I won't talk about him Carlisle. I refuse. You told me what you told me and I wish to god you hadn't."

He looks up, concerned, opening his mouth to speak.

"And don't tell me that's not healthy. Your opinion of what's good for me is unwelcome and frankly doesn't have much to recommend it."

"I have a strange urge to apologise again." He says with a slight smile that has me scowling at him.

Can't I stay mad at anybody?

We lapse into a slightly less strained silence.

Where do we go from here, if in fact, we should go anywhere? What does he want from me and do I want anything from him, them? I meant what I said about apologies and I'm not sure I want to see any of them enough to hear what they have to say, not even Alice. Besides it's a moot point because they're a package deal with _him_. And _him_ I definitely couldn't cope with.

Might as well get it over with.

"What do you want from me Carlisle?"

"Honestly?" He sighs. "I don't know. I don't expect you to forgive me, any of us. But what we did, with the best of intentions, it set so many things in motion."

I snort, stopping him in his tracks, because I do not need to hear any more about how hard this was for them.

Wisely he changes tack.

"I meant what I said about fate bringing people together for a reason. The chances of our paths crossing again were so remote . . . ."

Yes, I can't help but feel a little victimised by fate right now.

"I am loathe to let the moment pass, I suppose."

He's got as little idea where we go from here as I do. I don't know what I was expecting from him, wise words, an attempt to get me to engage with the rest of the family? With _him_? But suddenly I'm too tired to even think about it, any of it.

"I think you'd better go." I sigh, rubbing my numb face with my hands.

"I . . . . I'd like to see you again, talk, some more."

"Carlisle . . . ."

"Please, Bella, I think it would be good for both of us."

…..

Of course I told him to go to hell.

In my head.

His face was so, so, _desperate_ for want of a better word.

I agreed to meet him in the city for dinner on Wednesday, severely cutting into my Jake time.

And then I dragged my weary ass up to bed and to my intense surprise slept a long and dreamless sleep.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 14 Mucking Fuddle**

**BPOV**

The alarm wakes me up and set it to snooze and stretch out on the bed to contemplate my ceiling.

Forks.

It's a long time since I woke up with them, him and then on my mind. And usually it was a miasma left over from my dreams. But I feel curiously clearheaded this morning. Not happy, far from it, but not like I need to hop in the shower and scrub the bad feelings away.

Almost as if running into Carlisle and being forced to start facing things has de-sensitized me.

Or, possibly, switched my issues from shadowy ghosts in my past to very real vampires in my present.

I sigh and roll over, pulling the covers tight around me.

I feel like I'm stuck between a rock and hard place.

My past made me miserable, really, quite spectacularly miserable. And frankly, a little strange. Yet now . . . .

It still hurts, a ghost wound, a shadow of what was. At least part of it. Being without him, well the flavour of that pain has never changed. But in both cases it's off kilter now, new and strange.

Because of Carlisle's words.

But old habits die hard, I just _can't_ think about it, how all of this was apparently for my benefit.

My normal human life.

I love Freya and I love my extended family. But I couldn't look myself in the eye and say I enjoyed all of it. In all honesty, and I don't know what kind of person it makes me to think it, I would only say I'd _survived_ it. That's not to say I haven't had fun, been happy, just that underneath it all there has always been something missing that I either can't or won't let go of.

But, and this is the hard part, is that my fault or _his_?

Growling I heave over and punch the pillow into submission until it accepts my face gracefully.

Rose tinted spectacles they might be but I was really starting to feel I was getting a grip on all this.

And now . . . .

Now I have no idea . . . .

…..

"Both eyes." Bren observes with a smile as she hands me a steaming mug of coffee.

I roll my eyes at her and withdraw into my cubicle to gaze sightlessly at a couple of spreadsheets and produce a dozen or so lines of highly dubious code that I'll have to re-write when I'm less out of it.

I'm still waiting for some random thought or memory to strike and send me spiralling into a meltdown. But although the Forks memory bank is open and throwing out static it's not happening. I'm trying really hard not to Holmes it but it's hard. No matter how much I'd like Carlisle's words to be expunged from my head they won't go and even though I think it's a path to madness I can't help but probe at it like a sore tooth.

He was always telling me he was no good for me. That he should leave or I should leave for my own protection. I wasn't having any of it, because I couldn't imagine living without him and because I trusted him far more than he trusted himself. But was he really stupid enough to actually do it, to lie to me about it?

Argh!

I could go mad, I really could . . . .

…..

By mid-afternoon I couldn't stand it any longer and I made up an appointment for a bikini wax, something not even Bren would expect to be shown afterwards, and escaped into the afternoon drizzle. By the time Freya got in from school I was cooking up a storm and in full avoidance mode.

She filled me on her day as she prowled the kitchen, stealing ingredients and poking her finger into everything like a two year old. And though I wanted to, really badly, I didn't ask her about the shiny new people.

Instead we ate too much, talked about clothes, music, modern literature, possums, food and the A Lots. She even helped me clean-up, a bit, before yawning loudly and excusing herself to do homework.

Cleary it wasn't the type of homework to require stress testing the building structure because I was soon drifting off to sleep on the couch . . . .

…..

My cell wakes me up and I peer at it groggily.

Jake.

Immediately my heart starts racing and a cascade of guilt pours down on me. I slept with him and then barely gave him a second thought, not that he knows that, but still.

His name continues to flash on the screen and for a brief moment I consider letting him go to voicemail. Then I remember that I like Jake, like him a lot, and I answer.

"Hi."

"Hi yourself. You okay?"

"Sleeping on the couch again would you believe."

"I would." He chuckles. "It's what weekday evenings are for when you're at home."

"True." I confirm, wriggling myself upright.

"So." He says quietly. "I know you're cooking me dinner on Saturday but I find myself impatient to see you, are you up for a quick visit?"

"Jake, um, Freya's home."

"I know." He assures me. "Just coffee, in the kitchen, we really need to talk and I, well, I want us to have that talk. I don't want to leave anything hanging."

I groan, letting my head flop back against the cushions. It's not that I don't want to start clearing up some of our secrets but now? What if I can't deal with what he tells me? My coping mechanisms are already straining. But then again, putting things off isn't going to improve things is it?

"Okay." I agree.

"Thank you." He says seriously. "About half an hour?"

"Okay."

"See you then."

I disconnect the call and then slap my forehead with the phone a few times.

Avoidance not withstanding I don't want Freya's first meeting with Jake to be a surprise, a surprise with him on her territory, I realise she knows all about him but suddenly being faced with him is another thing entirely.

I'm an idiot, I should have told him no.

Of course I could ring him back but I find myself reluctant to do it. Other than Freya, and fear, I have no objections to seeing Jake at all, I like him.

…..

I'm still vacillating useless when there's a soft knock at the door.

Please god, don't let it be Carlisle.

"Jake."

In a moment I'm wrapped in his arms and crying like a baby.

Not remotely embarrassing. Nevertheless I allow him to ease me into the kitchen, prop me onto a stool, stroke my hair and make soothing noises.

"Bad day?" He murmurs when I calm down.

"Yes." I tell his chest in a small voice.

"Want to talk about it?"

I shake my head and we both sigh.

"Can I make it easy on you?" He asks.

I try to pull away and look up at him but he won't let me, instead he drops a kiss on the top of my head.

"Come sit with me on the couch and let me tell you about my talk with Cullen."

"Okay."

Wordlessly I let him lead me to the couch and tuck me securely into his side, one arm holding my hand, the other caressing my shoulder.

"So. I spoke to Cullen the other night. I went looking for him and he was looking for me."

I nod and decide to keep quiet, we can address what he can't tell me another time.

"Both of us were concerned, still are I guess. I don't trust vampires Bella, they're dangerous, and I'm finding that I particularly don't like the idea of them being around you. Besides, I'm kind of aware what happened in Forks."

"You were there, when Sam Uley brought me out of the forest."

"Yes, it was before I knew certain things, my only concern was that he'd dragged you off into the forest and abandoned you. You could have died Bella. I'd never seen Charlie so wound up."

I wince, reminded of what I put other people through.

"He didn't drag me off anywhere. He left me safely in sight of the house. I went after him, tried to find him."

He makes a sound made up of equal parts laugh and snort.

"Chasing vampires?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Hell, it was the only idea at the time.

"I'll always remember that night. Everyone was so worried about you. No one could find the Cullens. Charlie was ready to call the Feds, thinking they'd abducted you. I assumed that's what everyone else was worried about, I didn't know about vampires then."

"But other people in Forks did?"

"Yes. They thought they'd drained you. Been waiting for it happen."

"So, there are other people in Forks, like you?"

"Yes."

I swallow into the pause.

"Okay."

"Thank you." He says quietly, giving my hand a squeeze.

I nod. It's going to be problem that he can't tell me stuff but I don't have to be a bitch about it.

"Anyway. I have a number of reasons for hating vampires and more where the Cullens are concerned. So, I wasn't exactly thrilled about him being here. Following you around."

"Can you tell me why?"

"Other than what they did to you? No, I'm sorry, I've probably said too much already."

I sigh, if only. It's all as clear as mud to me.

"It pains me to admit it." He continues. "But it seemed to me that Cullen's concerns and mine were the same, you, your safety and your happiness."

I freeze, mind and body going into lockdown.

Jake seems oblivious.

"I told him that if he really cared about either he'd take his brood of monsters and leave but it didn't work because they're still here."

"You've seen the others too?" I croak.

"Not up close. But they know I'm here."

"Do they know I'm here?"

"Not according to Doctor Death. He promised to keep them away from you unless you wanted to see them."

I'm surprised and inordinately grateful when he doesn't ask me if that's what I want.

"I'll know." He says quietly. "If they find you."

It's on the tip of my tongue to ask how and what he'd do about it, but instead I'll take that one at face value. Besides, why would they want to find me now?

"You're seeing him on Wednesday?" He asks eventually, breaking the long silence.

I freeze again, torn between guilt and anger.

"How do you know?" I finally manage to ask.

Jake sighs.

"My hearing is almost as good as my sense of smell."

What the fuck?

"You were spying on me?"

Pause.

"Yes, well no, more him really."

"Fuck."

Though a part of me wants to stay pressed into his side the bulk of me starts struggling frantically, needing some distance.

Thankfully he releases me, regarding me sadly from the couch as I hop from foot to foot in the middle of the room.

"I feel responsible." He says in a low sure voice. "I have responsibilities. And you are one of them, one I'll take willingly. I don't like lies but I'm not lying to you Bella, just keeping some secrets that aren't entirely mine to share. I'm naturally pre-disposed not to trust the Cullens and personally disinclined to trust them around you. I have been keeping an eye on them, and you by default, but I'll stop, if that's what you want. I really do want you to trust me."

"How?" I gasp.

"Yeah." He chuckles darkly without breaking eye contact. "I know I'm not giving you much to work with."

"Jake, you should . . . ."

"Alright, I'm going." He says, rising fluidly but intentionally not crowding my space with his imposing presence. "But Bella, did you know that the one you dated used to creep into your room at night and watch you sleep?"

The fight goes out of me and I collapse into one the arm chairs behind me.

"Yes. I knew that. After."

"I'm not deliberately making comparisons here." Jake's voice is quiet and he stays rigidly in place. "But Doctor Death said the other one did it because he cared about you. And I'm hoping that you'll at least try to understand that I was doing the same."

"You need to stop."

"Okay."

I narrow my eyes at him but all I can see reflected back at me is naked honesty.

Well there's a refreshing change.

"What do we do now?" I ask.

His serious face breaks into that traffic stopping smile.

"Well, we're sober, we could try the Alaska thing again, see if it makes sense?"

"It won't."

"I think that's the point." He laughs, gesturing at the television.

"I've got a better idea."

He raises an eyebrow but ten minutes later we're settled on the couch to watch the last couple of episodes of True Blood, which I've missed with all the drama going on in my own life. Sort of making up with Jake and punishing him at the same time. And no bad thing for me, squishy vampires that bleed have always cheered me up for some reason . . . .

…..

Instinct woke me up at the crack of dawn and I managed to extricate myself from Jake's warmth, and the couch, to stagger up to bed.

I dropped a blanket over him first. Because I can't stay mad at anybody for very long. Apparently.

…..

The alarm, already?

I literally only closed my eyes a moment ago. I swear.

Somehow I manage to shower, dress, and make it downstairs for the morning ritual.

…..

"Mom?" Freya asks as she accepts her plate of waffles. "Why is there an extremely attractive man snoring on the couch?"


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 15 The Wheels on the Bus**

**BPOV**

Jake, god bless him, pretended to be asleep while Freya quizzed me good naturedly on his presence. He even managed to hide a couple of his amused snorts as snores when she proceeded to point out that he probably would have been more comfortable in my bed and that my sense of propriety was residing in the Victorian Age. Apparently as long as my sex life doesn't wake her up and gross her out I'm free to go at it whenever I can.

And it suddenly dawned on me that my teenage daughter had a better idea of what we could have been doing on the couch than I did.

For which I blame Bren.

But I only truly realised I'd been worrying over nothing, and underestimating her snore interpretation, when she breezed out the front door calling 'Bye Jake, see you around I hope' over her shoulder.

…..

Saturday night I cooked him dinner. By mutual consent we skirted the contentious issues, choosing instead to take the night to just enjoy each other's company. We couldn't avoid it entirely though. When we talked about his ex-wife he admitted that one of her issues was with his secrets. In return I admitted that I had some quirky trust issues brought on by what happened with the Cullens.

The night nearly took a nose dive at that point but we were saved by, of all people, Mrs Smalley. By the time she was done telling me about Freya's latest crime against her son, something about being shown an inappropriate finger when going about his legitimate hall monitoring responsibilities, Jake and I were laughing so hard we were crying.

I may have offended her but I'll deal with it, wild laughing led to wild other things and I woke up on Sunday a very happy woman, with a whole new perspective on the couch.

…..

After that time sped up in a terrifying manner.

Monday and Tuesday blurred past and I still didn't have a grip on what Wednesday would bring.

I woke up that morning nauseated to the pit of my stomach.

Bren, who managed to get it out of me that I was meeting the guy she thinks is the Forks Heartbreaker for dinner, tried to talk me out of it. And it all made sense it really did. I could just tell him I was busy if I was too pathetic to be honest. In the event of not being pathetic I could have told him I'd changed my mind and that I'd prefer it if he'd 'crawl back into the hole he came from'.

In the end I thought about it so much I didn't manage to do anything proactive and so it was with heavy feet that I made my way down to Reception when Naresh rang to inform me that Doctor Cullen was there.

…..

Dinner with Carlisle was nothing like I was expecting.

For a start he was happy to include me in the game of 'hide the food'. Vampires can eat it but it doesn't taste very nice and has to be sicked up later.

I don't think he'd ever made me laugh before.

At first I don't remember saying much, but this time there didn't seem to be any need.

He told me about the hospital. How he was enjoying some research opportunities he hadn't had in a while. He told me about his patients. He told me about his on-going battles with the cable company. His doomed attempts to understand the computer on his new Mercedes, something I could completely identify with, if mine wants something I have to get Freya to talk to it.

He didn't mention the others, or the past, once.

We talked about the theatre and the opera, politics, art, the latest books and the latest new age crazes.

I told him about Twilight, how it started and miraculously hasn't fallen over yet.

And it was surprisingly like being out with Renee, minus the hitting on waiters.

After dinner we walked back to my car. I know walking in the city late at night isn't entirely sensible but I had a vampire escort, I could afford to be relaxed about it.

In fact I was so relaxed it wasn't until I was about halfway home that I realised I'd agreed to go to the opening of a new play with him the following week.

Which was when I freaked out.

…..

Freaked out or not the wheels on the bus kept turning.

Freya got detention for another Mike related finger incident and Maisie privileges had to be withdrawn for a couple of days. Which makes for one morose teenager.

At work, our new clients changed the scope of their requirements and sent us into a tailspin.

On Saturday Jake took me to a gig, fed me Mexican food and made love to me until the sun came up.

On Sunday Freya's winter coat retired itself from active service and the two of us spent hours at the mall looking for an acceptable replacement. And I do mean _hours_.

Monday was a nightmare and Tuesday a disaster.

By the time Naresh called to let me know Doctor Cullen was downstairs on Wednesday I was ready for any kind of distraction, even a supernatural one.

…..

And the wheels on the bus kept turning, moving me from stop to scheduled stop.

The working week.

The weekends.

Somehow the schedule settled into Carlisle on Wednesdays and Jake on Saturdays. Yet in no other way was anything settled at all.

All the wheels might have come off the Bella Swan Avoidance Wagon but somehow the two of them were helping keep it moving along.

And move along it did.

Bren and Ted celebrated their twelve month anniversary with cocktails and a borderline lewd display of affection that nearly got us thrown out of the restaurant. I was mortified, Jake thought it was hilarious.

Dan and Cath took a long weekend and left the A Lots to destroy my house. I cannot confirm or deny how much Freya and I helped, just that it took us most of Sunday to clean up the mess and Jake took us out to Berto's afterwards.

And before I knew it Thanksgiving was looming . . . .

…..

"Invite him." Freya suggests as we lounge on the old couch in the den, eating nachos and watching cartoons. Jake's visiting Billy and Freya has very kindly consented to keep the old lady company on a Saturday night, either that or she wasn't in the mood for the A Lots.

"I can't." I object. "You wanted it to be just us."

"I know." She says, grabbing the nacho with the most cheese left on before my fingers can close round it. "But I like Jake and you like Jake, he'll be on his own otherwise."

I sigh, undecided, and she gives me that look, the one that says I'm taller than you and way less pathetic so I'm going to talk to you like I'm the Mom. I know that look because I used to give to Renee it all the time, without the tall part.

"Mom, I know his contract is up in January and neither of you knows what will happen next and I know why you're hesitating to let him spend more time here. But I'm not ten. I'm not imagining him being my new Dad, I'm not going to be upset if he leaves, not as much as you will be anyway."

I growl at her, snatching the nacho she's waving around airily and cramming it in my mouth.

"Just invite him. He's funny and we both like him. Besides, he can do the washing up."

"You talked to Bren." I observe when I've swallowed the nacho.

"Some of the words were hers." Freya shrugs, going for the next cheesiest nacho. "But the washing up bit was all mine."

"Figures. Okay, if you're sure?"

"I'm sure. I might have a condition though."

I give her the Mom eyebrow and she giggles, totally unfazed.

"Can we have a party the night before?"

"No. No way young lady, am I having my house filled with illegally intoxicated teenagers."

House parties are a large part of the reason she exists in the first place. Not on my watch.

I thought we were about to start into an argument but instead she's laughing at me.

"Your face!" She splutters. "You look like a bulldog chewing a wasp."

Nice.

"I didn't mean that kind of party, christ, Dad would kill me, and then you."

True, there's nothing like a reformed rake when it comes to protecting his daughter's virtue. Every boy in town knows Freya's Dad. The really, really big guy with the suspiciously narrowed blue eyes.

"I thought maybe we could have a grown up party. You know Dad and Cath, Bren and Ted, Maisie, Jake and a few others."

"Oh, okay, I like that idea."

"And you could invite Doctor Cullen."

So casually said but I choke on the chip in my mouth.

"What?" I manage finally.

She doesn't look so amused now and she's blushing furiously.

"Why." I ask in a low voice. "Would I invite Doctor Cullen to a party?"

"Um."

"_Freya_."

"Bren mentioned that you'd seen him, a few times."

Jesus.

"What else did she tell you?"

"Just that you know him, from before."

She's watching me.

"Did she tell you how?"

"No. So of course I'm _avid_ to know the details."

Oh god. Think quickly Bella.

"Carlisle and I were in High School together, in Forks."

"Wow, who'd have thought half of Forks would end up in Pennsylvania."

Quite. Certainly not me.

"So, why don't you invite him, you guys are obviously friends?"

I gape at her as she blushes again.

"And he has hot sons."

Oh dear god. Kill me now.

"Um, I don't think that would be appropriate."

She looks at me like I've grown a second head.

"Why not?"

"He and Jake, they don't, um . . . ."

She squeals.

"Mom, are they rivals for your affections, cos I totally don't mind losing out on the sons if they are, Doctor Cullen is _gorgeous_."

"Um . . . ." I hedge, a mistake, because her eyes start gleaming with thoughts that couldn't be further from the truth.

"It's not what you think." I snap, attempting to regain the upper hand. "We're just . . . ."

Her cell rings and she snatches it up, immediately distracted by whatever Maisie's saying on the other end.

And I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

…..

"So." Bren drawls over Monday morning coffee. "Facebook tells me that you have more than one iron in the fire."

Bad thing.

"I'll kill her."

"Pft. You say that all the time. She didn't name names, just mentioned that her Mom is a hot man magnet with more options than Starbucks."

"She's got it all wrong." I moan, collapsing into the chair by Bren's desk. "And thanks by the way, for stirring that particular pot."

"I'm sorry." She says, looking vaguely like she might be. "It slipped out by accident when we were talking about Thanksgiving. She was saying that you'd been seeing Jake at least twice a week for eons and I mentioned that you weren't always out with him on Wednesday nights. She asked me about it so I just said that you and Doctor Delicious were old friends. It took her about a nanosecond to work out she could use that to her advantage on his sons."

I groan.

"Yeah." She chuckles wryly. "I can imagine why you don't like that idea."

No, Bren, you really can't.

…..

"So." Jake laughs when I call him later. "Social media tells me I have a rival or rivals for your affections."

"You saw that?" I gasp in surprise.

"Yep. Freya and I have been friends on there for a couple of weeks. You should try it you know."

"You know it's not true, right?"

"Of course I do. The only other guy you're seeing on a regular basis is Doctor Death."

"Will you stop calling him that?" I groan.

"Nope. It's funny."

"This is too complicated." I sigh.

"What?" He asks with amused sarcasm. "Bren thinks Carlisle is the guy you dated in High School. When in fact it was his 'son'. Who Freya quite possibly fancies. And they both probably think you're dating him again even though in reality the pair of you are on a mission to explore every boring, sorry cultural, activity the city has to offer."

"Jake." I warn.

"Come on babe." He chuckles, deep and rich. "It's actually quite funny when you think about it like that. Well apart from the poetry recitals, I still maintain they must suck."

"Only some of them." I mutter.

He always manages to make me feel better, it's amazing really.

"Freya wanted me to invite him to the party."

"You can if you want to." He says after a pause. "I promise not to bite him and he definitely won't bite me, I taste like shit."

I shake my head, momentarily distracted by the things I don't know about him. And then I focus on what's important right now.

"Jake, I know you hate that I'm even having anything to do with him . . . ."

"It's true." He says quietly. "But the situation is what it is. You seem to be getting something out of being friends with him. He's kept his promise to keep the others away from you. I want you to be happy Bella, it's not my decision how you go about it."

"I'm stupid." I groan, nearly going on to blurt out that he's kind of wonderful.

"What did you do now?"

"I absolutely didn't want the Cullens involved in Freya's life any more than being at school. And now she knows about Carlisle, she's going to think it's extremely odd that I won't let her anywhere near him, or his family."

Silence.

"At least you didn't say I told you so."

"I would never stoop so low." He says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

"What am I going to do?"

"Tell her Doctor Death and I hate each other's guts and have done since we were in Kindergarten and so there's no way you'll subject your lovely boyfriend to his presence."

"Lovely boyfriend?"

"I am all of the above. Lovely. Boy. And friend."

"Yeah." I sigh. "I guess you are. Well, apart from the boy part."

"Please." He shudders. "I'm all man, but manfriend just sounds sleazy."


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 16 Inevitability**

**BPOV**

Since Freya found out about Carlisle, who she thankfully hasn't mentioned since, I've been forced to spend a lot of time thinking about actions and consequences.

I should have told him I didn't want anything to do with him, I should have heeded Bren's advice, and Jake's. Even if given from different perspectives, they were both telling me the same thing. That this was going to get real complicated, real quick.

And so it is.

I feel like there's a timer following me everywhere I go, ticking inexorably down to some moment of catastrophe.

It's my own fault.

But I don't know how to stop it.

And I sense I've let it go too far already.

Despite the feeling of impending doom there isn't anything I'd cut out of my life right now. I'd miss my Wednesday nights with Carlisle who has rapidly become a friend I didn't know I needed. So strange that someone so central to my past, and increasingly disastrous looking future, is the one person I can be myself with, the one who somehow makes it so that I never have to think about any of it. Honestly, sometimes when I'm with him I forget everything and he really is the old friend from Forks. It's a bizarre and surreal thing.

And I'd miss Jake. Period.

…..

The approaching holiday has everyone, except those of us who will have to cook, a little giddy.

Jake and I are on tenterhooks waiting for a phone call because Sue Clearwater has invited Charlie _and_ Billy for dinner. Jake thinks there'll either be a massive fight and a trip to the emergency room or news of an impending wedding. I'm still in the dark about all this officially because Charlie, who is tight lipped in extremis, hasn't mentioned Sue's name to me in years, despite my new habit of asking loaded questions whenever we talk on the phone.

Renee and Phil have departed on their cruise. Renee's on Facebook too so Freya's been showing me the pictures. I miss the sun and could murder a cruise right now. Escapism in every sense of the word.

Neither Maisie nor Ted could make our party. She's gone to visit her Grandma for the holiday and Ted's mother pitched a fit and insisted he come home for the whole weekend. She doesn't like Bren, the silly old cow and I can't believe a woman so bitter could produce a son so lovely. Bren, the owner of the big girl panties, is curiously sanguine about it. She really likes Ted and isn't prepared to push the issue because it will make him miserable.

Freya and I have completed our holiday shopping ritual, girding our loins with pizza before biting the bullet and hitting the store with all the other mad people, buying up food like they're going to be closed forever rather than one day. And as I do every year I wonder where the hell these milling crowds disappear to for the other three hundred sixty three days of the year. It's one of life's great mysteries and the main reason I refuse to partake in the great shopping extravaganza that is Black Friday. That's a ritual that I've been happy for Freya, Cath and Bren to make their own. Plus, and I really don't get this, in order to be trampled, pushed and generally disrespected by normally civilised people they have to get up earlier and earlier every year. It makes no sense . . . .

…..

"Alright." I mumble, inspecting my make up in the hall mirror. "Both eyes. Check. Lipstick. Check. Let get this party started."

"Jeez Mom." Freya teases as she flashes past me with a bowl of nuts. "It's just a party, chill out."

"Humph."

I'm ready, I've done everything that needs doing, including putting the finishing touches to the canapés. They may be old fashioned but I still find them classy, and they're something of a speciality of mine.

Then a thought occurs to me and I flit into the living room to hide the breakables, Mr Carmody's nurse is bringing him round for a quick drink, he's a lonely old man and it's a holiday, but the last time he came over there were a couple of incidents, he gets confused so easily . . . .

"Bella?" Jake calls from the kitchen.

"Yeah?"

"I'm lost, does Rosé go in the fridge?"

"Yes." Freya and I both shout together.

My daughter, the wine expert, I wouldn't object to her having a glass with us now she's eighteen but I'm pretty sure Dan will. He is, quite rightly, not privy to everything she and her friends get up to.

"Nice." Jake murmurs as he comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist.

"Are you talking about my festive décor or my ass in this dress."

"Ass." He says succinctly, using his face to move my hair out of the way so he can nibble on my neck.

"You'll be in trouble if Freya catches you." I warn him, grinding the aforementioned ass into him.

"Meh. She's not so big, I reckon I could take her."

"OY!" Freya shouts, rounding the corner from the dining room. "We've talked about this. That's just nasty. I am single you know."

"Sorry." Jake mutters, dropping me like a hot brick and stepping away.

"At least a foot apart all night people." She growls as she passes us. "Don't embarrass me."

"Yes ma'am." Jake drawls, dodging the elbow I've aimed at him.

I dart off to see what Freya's been up to in the dining room as the doorbell goes.

"I'll get it." She yells.

Pause.

"Mom! Mr Carmody and Carol are here."

And so the night begins.

Bren arrives as I'm getting them settled in the living room, carrying a bowl of her special punch and a bouquet of flowers into the kitchen.

Dan and Cath are next, bearing imported beer and a date and walnut cake.

And then the dam breaks, the house flooding with the relatively small number of people that I consider friends and whose invites neither Freya nor Bren vetoed.

As always, because I don't do this very often, it takes me a while and several glasses of wine to relax.

Freya, however, is extremely comfortable around adults and doesn't seem remotely bothered that she's the youngest here, moving easily from conversation to conversation with an aplomb I'll never acquire. Jake and I pass from time to time, like ships in the night, most of the men having camped out in the den to talk sport, cars, money and politics.

The women are in several groups. Those taking a turn to talk to Mr Carmody, who seems to have naked people on his mind a lot recently, those in the living room talking about life, family and work, and those who've taken up residence in the kitchen and whose conversation has already descended into the gutter and seems set to stay there. And we say men are bad, hands are out measuring things in the air, yet none of them fish. Or I'm at least completely certain Cath and Bren don't.

Surprisingly its Cath that says her goodbyes first, pleading tiredness, and heading home to relieve the babysitter. Dan, who hasn't yet got Jake to see the Steelers his way, walks her home and then returns for more beer. Suspicious I catch his eye and he winks, which makes me smile, seems like another A Lot is on the way and I can't wait to see Freya's face when they make it official. She'll be appalled, knowing your parents have sex and being asked to hold the proof for a photograph are two different things at her age . . . .

The party continues on and for the most part I enjoy it, but I'm not a natural hostess and I can't deny I'm not grateful when it turns out not to be a late one. Everyone has a big dinner to cook and eat tomorrow and by midnight we're down to the hardcore element, most of whom I've pressganged into helping me clear up.

"Look who I found coming out of Mr Carmody's." Freya announces, leading an extremely uncomfortable looking Carlisle into the house.

Shit! She only went to take the trash out . . . . Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit . . . .

"Don't worry Mom, he's fine, isn't he Doctor Cullen? He just slipped and fell getting into bed." She explains, mistaking my look of frozen panic for concern about our neighbour.

"Yes." Carlisle says quietly, his apologetic gaze darting between me and Jake. "I am sorry to intrude, Ms Monroe was most insistent that I drop in to say hello, but as I explained to her I have another patient to see."

Bren's hand lands on my shoulder.

"Suck it up Swan." She whispers. "He'll be gone in no time."

Jake comes to the rescue.

"It's good to see you Carlisle." He drawls, squeezing his huge frame past Bren and me to awkwardly shake Carlisle's hand. "Such a shame you can't stay for a drink."

And he's almost got him out the door again when Dan comes to life.

"Wait a minute, did you say Cullen? The new Doctor at County?"

"Um, yes?" Carlisle responds, pausing in the doorway.

"It's such a pleasure to meet you." Dan cries leaping forward and grabbing his hand to shake it profusely. "You saved my colleague's life, perforated colon."

"Oh. Ah. Well, it was my pleasure."

"And I hear you're a Steelers man."

"Um, yes?"

"Excellent, do you really have another patient or are you just being polite?"

For a man of his age Carlisle's a lamentably crappy liar and before I can credit what's happening he's in the living room with Dan, nursing a beer, desperately trying to make his escape.

I shoot Freya a glare that promises terrible retribution, Jake a look of apology and gratitude, and Bren a look that demands she join me in the kitchen, stat.

Before I can say anything Jake wanders in and props himself up on the counter next to us.

"Well." Bren says quietly. "I wasn't expecting that."

"What do we do?" I whisper at Jake.

"Nothing. He's not an idiot, he'll pry himself away from Dan and leave."

"Where's Freya?"

"Hanging on his every word." Jake laughs.

"Shit."

"It's okay, I'll drag her upstairs, she can help me make up the bed in the spare room." Bren decides.

Jake takes my hand as we follow her out and I squeeze it to convey my gratitude for how well he's handling this.

"Well." Carlisle is saying as he places his untouched beer on the mantle. "It was very nice to meet you Dan but I really must go, I have another patient to see at the hospital before I finish for the night."

"Right, sorry." Dan's on his feet again, shaking Carlisle's hand and walking him to the door. "I didn't realise you knew Bells, such a small world."

"Isn't it." Carlisle murmurs as they cross the threshold into the hallway.

I breathe a deep sigh of relief that cuts off midway when the door opens before Carlisle's outstretched hand can reach the knob.

"Bells?"

Oh dear god. No.

"Fuck." Jake mutters, dropping my hand.

"Gramps!" Freya screeches, barrelling past the rest of us and throwing herself into Charlie's arms.

Still strong he manages to catch her and steady himself before they topple out onto the porch, placing her carefully back on her feet, and glaring at me over her shoulder as he hugs her, hard.

What did I do?

Then his eyes alight on Carlisle.

"YOU!" He thunders, swelling up like a bullfrog and releasing Freya to jab his finger menacingly at Carlisle. "What the hell are you doing here? And where is your no good son? I have a few things I've been saving up to discuss with him!"

Instinctively we all back up in the face of his anger, Bren dragging Freya to the couch.

"Charlie . . . ." I finally find my voice.

"Bells are you insane?" He demands, raking his eyes over the rest of the group. "What is . . . ."

He pauses, eyeing a Carlisle who clearly hasn't changed one iota, suspiciously.

". . . . he doing here?"

"Chief Swan . . . ." Carlisle begins in his best soothing Doctor's voice.

"Don't use that tone on me Cullen, I've every right to be mad after what your son did to my daughter, I don't care how many years ago it was." Charlie growls, then he turns his furious eyes on me. "Where is he Bells?"

"I'm here Chief Swan." A hauntingly beautiful voice says quietly, as a familiar figure appears in the open doorway.

"Oh shit." I moan, dropping into the nearest chair as all the blood drains out of my head to try and get my heart re-started.

It's my worst nightmare, a horrific parody of what used to be my most cherished dream. And I can't take my eyes off him, even though his haven't left Charlie.

"You son of a bitch!" Charlie howls, swinging back toward the sound of his voice.

"Charlie, don't!" I scream starting out of the chair in terror.

Fortunately Jake is much quicker off the mark, grabbing Charlie's rapidly extending fist and jerking him away before he can break it on E-Ed . . . . _his_ stone face.

Deathly. Silence.

My best friend and daughter are on the couch, hands clasped, mouths working but not producing sound.

The father of my child is standing next to them with a very confused expression on his handsome and beer befuddled face.

My lover is holding my no longer struggling Dad in a headlock for his own safety.

My former vampire father figure and now friend is hovering uncertainly.

And we're all staring at my former love, the boy who broke my heart, as he stands in the doorway, staring back at _me_.


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 17 Bella Swan's A Series of Unfortunate Revelations**

**BPOV**

No one breaks the silence as Ed-he and I stare at each other.

I wish I could read his mind, what does he think of the middle aged woman I've become?

My memory, not even jogged by the photo in Carlisle's office, hasn't done him justice. He's perfect. And just as far out of my reach as he ever was.

Then suddenly it seems to occur to Jake that he's holding his Dad's best friend in a headlock and he lets him go.

The movement wakes everyone up somewhat and all eyes but mine and Ed-his swivel to Charlie, who draws himself up to his full height and dons his Chief of Police persona.

"Would somebody . . . ." He enunciates clearly. ". . . . please explain to me exactly what is going on here?"

"I don't know." I whisper with complete honesty, unable to tear my eyes away from the spectre at the door.

It's Dan, always mindful of Charlie's status and the less than salubrious start to their relationship, who attempts to answer properly.

"Bells had a party."

Charlie snorts.

"Um." The highly paid and extremely eloquent lawyer continues. "We were, um, just tidying up when you arrived."

"Thank you." Charlie, who doesn't forgive daughter impregnators easily, growls. "I can see that. But I was talking to _Isabella_."

"This is as much of a shock to her as it is to you Char-Chief." Carlisle says smoothly. "Perhaps if . . . ."

"Shock Doctor Cullen?" Charlie interrupts. "I don't see how it can be. My source tells me that you and my daughter were at some shindig the other night. But while we're on the subject of shocks, perhaps you could give me the name of your plastic surgeon, he's remarkably good. Does he work on all the family . . . ."

Dimly I'm aware of conversation heating up around my helpless staring but it isn't until Dan and Jake converge in front of me, in something of a protective stance, that I start to regain my faculties.

". . . . Don't know what the fuck's, sorry Freya, going on . . . ." Dan is saying. ". . . . but _you_ don't seem to be welcome."

Like a bobble head I nod and shake in agreement, freeing the unshed tears that have pooled in my eyes to slide down my cheeks.

He's not. I don't know what he is, but right now he's not welcome. His physical presence is beyond what I can cope with.

"_Bella_ . . . ."

Jesus, that voice. It resonates through my body.

"Edward . . . ." The tone in Carlisle's voice drags his eyes away from mine and finally I can blink, breathe, glance between them.

The intensity of their silent exchange is eerily familiar.

"_Bella _. . . ." My eyes snap back to _his_.

You shouldn't be here. You don't belong here. I can't deal with you being here. My daughter is here. You need to leave. Read my mind, please read my fucking mind.

"Edward." Carlisle warns. "You need to leave."

"_Please_." I beg, jumping at the sound of my own voice.

He blinks.

"You heard the lady." Charlie snaps.

"_Bella_ . . . . _love_ . . . ." He breathes, hand inching toward me.

My heart stops, again.

Charlie, Dan and Carlisle step forward, Bren and Jake growl, Freya gasps.

Freya.

Everyone thinks we named her after the Old Norse goddess. I never tell them that in postpartum delirium I named her after my favourite brand of lingerie. We were planning to call her Vanessa, Nessie for short. We liked it for some reason . . . .

She can't see me breakdown. She shouldn't. I'm her Mom.

I don't know what's going to happen but I'm trusting, with everything that I have . . . .

"_Jake_." I plead.

Without looking back at me he pushes past Charlie, who is still stood in the center of things, shouldering him into a nearby armchair and then, with only the sound of shredding clothes, he explodes into a wolf.

A really, quite spectacularly big, brown one.

With an incongruously jaunty tail.

Someone, Bren I think, screams.

And both vampires back up a step.

"Edward." Carlisle orders. "Go."

The Jake wolf growls in agreement, lowering its head and hunching its shoulders menacingly.

I blink again and that's all it takes for him to be gone, the bitterly cold breeze from the now empty doorway ruffling the wolf's shaggy fur and registering with me for the first time.

But it's not the only reason I shiver.

The enchantment is broken.

Into a reality of a million pieces.

Waiting for me to pick them up.

Except I don't know where to start . . . .

My eyes flick round the room, taking in the shocked and concerned faces before finally alighting on the lambent eyes of the wolf.

There is a wolf, in my living room.

"Jake?" I query.

The wolf inclines its huge head in the semblance of a nod then steps toward me, Dan scoots back to stand in front of Freya and Bren, but my lack of self-preservation has me reaching out until my fingers can brush through the thick soft fur on the side of its face.

Its breath is warm on my skin as it leans into my hand.

I scratch it experimentally and its tail starts to wag furiously.

Shit this is weird.

"Can you, um, change back?"

It butts me in the chest with its head and then steps back, leaning down to huff at the shredded remains of its, Jake's, clothes.

"Oh, ah."

I swear to god it grinned at me before turning carefully and edging around the furniture to the stairs, claws clicking on the wooden floor in the hallway.

In the silence I glance round the room again, and yes, they're all looking at me.

"We'll just, um, wait for him to come back, shall we?"

A chorus of blinks is punctuated by Dan collapsing on the arm of couch beside Bren.

A million _tiny_ pieces for me to pick up . . . .

Automatically I cross the room and shut the front door, not daring to look outside. I want to ask Carlisle if _he's_ really gone but I can't bring myself to do it.

And, they're all still looking at me.

Jesus. What a mess.

The stairs creak and Jake re-appears in jeans and a faded Motorhead t-shirt, coming to stand beside me but unable to meet my eyes. Charlie glares at Jake's bare feet for a moment and then decides to keep his disdain for same to himself.

So here we are the nondescript human flanked by two members of the supernatural world, putting on a united front.

I take a deep breath and Jake's massive paw, ha-ha, squeezes my hand briefly.

Bren watches that for a second and then narrows her eyes at Jake.

"Are you going to do that again?" She snaps.

"No."

"Good. Are you dangerous?"

"No."

"Good enough for me." She snaps, releasing Freya so she can rush to my side.

"Mom?" She asks as I crush her into her a hug, closing my eyes for a moment.

"It's okay Freya." I assure her. "It's all okay."

Bren snorts and it's remarkably easy not to roll my eyes under the circumstances.

"Alright." Charlie growls. "Now that the freak show's over who's going to start?"

Freya and I release each other and re-join the line-up, hands clasped tightly.

Jake and Carlisle exchange a long across us and after a moment Jake sighs heavily.

Then he starts talking . . . .

Turns out I should have known some of this already, he told me about the tribal legends that day at First Beach, the day I learned about the cold ones. It's not surprising the vampires were the only part I remembered, my obsession with Ed-him was always selfish. The Quileutes are shape-shifters and the young men, and in some cases women, start changing, or phasing, as Jake calls it, in their late teens if they're exposed to vampires.

The Wolf Pack call themselves Protectors and are apparently the only thing that can kill a vampire apart from another vampire. They aren't dangerous to humans. The Pack is led by what they call the Alpha, Sam Uley, which makes a weird kind of sense if you know him, and it's impossible for them to disobey his commands. Hence Jake's _actual_ inability to tell me what he was.

Jake and I exchange a smile when he peeks at me shyly and admits that he asked permission from Sam and the other Elders to tell me the truth when he was home.

When he's done the silence resumes as we all absorb his words.

I could have predicted that the lawyer would recover first.

"I can't refute the wolf part." Dan observes with a slight shake of his head. "But what's this shit, sorry Freya, about vampires?"

There aren't words for how relieved I feel when she snickers and squeezes my hand, just like she would on any normal day when Dan is apologising for his less than immaculate, usually sports related, language.

"That would be me." Carlisle says quietly.

All eyes swivel to him.

"I'm sorry." Dan queries. "Did you just say you were a vampire?"

"Yes."

And its Carlisle's turn to talk.

Confirmation that the Quileute generations only phase when vampires are present. That he and his family lived near Forks during the twenties and forged an uneasy truce with the tribe. That the wolves are supernaturally strong and fast, rivals for vampires in every sense.

That he and his family are vegetarians, vampires who only feed on the blood of animals.

That he and his family were in Forks again when I went to school there, that we went to school together, that Ed-he and I were romantically involved.

And we're into another silence.

I wish I could read Freya's mind. What must she be thinking?

"You dated _Edward_? In High School?"

I nod, biting my lip.

"Holy shit."

No one calls her on her language.

"Vampires?" Charlie snorts.

"Shouldn't you have fangs or something?" Bren chips in. "Hell I've seen you in daylight."

Carlisle looks at me meaningfully.

It's my turn.

I tell them about how Ed-ward, yeah I said it, out loud, saved me from an out of control van in the school parking lot, crushing the side of it in the process with no injury to himself whatsoever. I tell them about the book I bought on the Quileute legends of the 'Cold Ones'. Our awkward dinner in Port Angeles. How I gradually came to appreciate the extent of what they really were. How I came to love them as a family.

I allude to the fact that I met other vampires who weren't as nice and who didn't have such scrupulous dining principles. Unconsciously I lift my hand, with Freya's still in it, to rub my scar.

I explain that they had to leave, using Ed-his line that people were starting to notice they weren't aging.

Of my broken heart and devastation I mention nothing.

Not that I need to. The looks Charlie, Dan and Bren are giving me speak volumes of their understanding. Of some things at least. I daren't look at Jake, we've skirted round just how involved I might have been with Ed-him.

It's Charlie that breaks the new silence.

"Bells, _Jesus_ . . . ."

"I'm sure you can appreciate why I didn't tell you." I whisper.

"I . . . ."

He pauses, shaking his head to clear it and then scowls at Carlisle.

"Fell down some stairs, huh Cullen?"

Oh no. No. Not in front of Freya.

I shake my head minutely at Charlie, who subsides, moustache twitching angrily.

But once again my sigh of relief is interrupted mid exhalation.

"Bells." Dan's quiet voice, a part of my life for so long, breaks into my fretting. "What's that scar on your hand?"

Instinctively I shove my hand behind my back, effectively drawing everyone's attention to it.

"You've seen that?" I ask equally quietly.

"A time or two." He confirms with a ghost of his usual twinkle. "I'm ashamed to say I never gave it much thought, but it's a bite, isn't it?"

My eyes dart to Carlisle's but there's no help there.

It's Freya that fishes my hands out, turning it over and holding it in her own while she inspects it.

"Wow." She breathes. "I've seen that virtually every day of my life, and I've never noticed the pattern of the teeth marks before."

"It's very faint." I explain, fighting the urge to yank my hand away as she runs the pad of her finger over it.

"Not to me." Jake growls.

"Or me." Carlisle adds.

"It's cold." Freya mutters.

"It's the venom." Carlisle supplies.

"Venom?" She asks, looking up at him but continuing to rub my scar.

I've no feeling in that skin, nor the tissue underneath, and it's always a strange sensation when something brushes across my hand and fails to register on that part.

"The cells in her hand, where James bit her, his venom changed them."

"James?" Someone asks and I shudder.

To my horror Carlisle's dry technical depiction of venomous vampires morphs into a tale of love, selflessness and terror. The story of how an exceptional but lonely boy fell forever in love with an unremarkable but equally lonely girl. A tale of my almost death at the hands of the nomad James. How I tried to sacrifice myself, how Ed-he fought James _and_ his own nature to save me. How he eventually gave me up to protect me. Freya's eyes are as wide as saucers as she hangs on his every word.

"So romantic . . . ." She breathes when he's done, gazing down at me with awe.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Bren howls, as Dan and Charlie nod.

"What?" Freya asks, dropping my hand like I've stung her.

"Romantic? Girl you're a severe disappointment to me if you think anything about what happened to your Mom is romantic."

"But he loves her."

"Yeah sweetie, we all saw that. But does she look happy about it?"

Freya swings back to face me, appraising me like she's seeing me for the first time.

"Mom?"

I sigh, a long heavy one that nothing interrupts this time. You can only pick the mess up one piece at time, better start with the most important one . . . .

Much has been written recently about the power of the Bitch Brow but frankly I don't see how it can have anything on the Mom Brow, even Charlie couldn't protest too much when Dan ushered him out promising him a beer and a bed at Casa Monroe. They left, taking Jake with them and promising to be back first thing in the morning.

I followed Carlisle out onto the porch.

"Has he gone?" I ask quietly.

"Yes." He confirms. "Jasper and Emmett have taken him hunting. It is unlikely he will come back tonight, nevertheless I will stay, if you don't mind?"

I shake my head and he starts to walk away.

"Carlisle?"

"Yes?" He asks, pausing to look over his shoulder.

"Will it be a problem, that we all know?"

"I hope not Bella."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He says, returning to press a chaste kiss to the top of my head. "You should never have had to carry a secret like this on your own."


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 17 Splainin'**

**BPOV**

I watch him climb into his car and drive away and then I take a very deep breath and return to the house.

Bren and Freya are already waiting on the couch, glasses of wine in hand, Freya holding one for me and Bren patting the space between them meaningfully.

Oh well.

Here goes nothing.

…..

It was four am when I packed a drooping Freya off to bed.

"If it's any consolation." Bren observes as I flop back down on the couch beside her. "I think the knowledge that you've already exchanged saliva with the object of her affections has cooled her ardour somewhat. Hell, frozen it in its tracks more like."

"Do you think she'll be okay?"

"I expect so." She says, patting my hand. "The young are extremely adaptable an' if I ain't freaking out over it I doubt she will."

"You aren't?"

"Well." She says after careful consideration. "I may be anaesthetised by the unholy grape but I seem to be pretty relaxed about it. Your man is a fuckin' great dog and your ex is a seventeen year old boy that drinks blood. I'll be honest, it's not the kinda thing I run into every day, I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about it."

"Yeah." I sigh, twirling my wine glass. "The wolf thing was a bit of a shock but I've had quite a while to get used to the vampire part."

"Bells?" She asks quietly. "There's nothin' freaky about you you haven't told me is there?"

"No." I answer with complete sincerity. "That's was always the problem."

It's her turn to sigh and we lapse into silence.

"Are you, or anyone else I love, in danger?"

"No. I mean. You know what happened, before, but I'm not planning to get any more involved with them than I have already, none of my reasons have changed. And the Cullens, well, Carlisle was being honest, they don't, um, eat humans. And they never hurt _me_."

She snorts, probably remembering the tale of my birthday party, and then sighs again.

"Are any of these people, and I use the term people advisedly, going to make you miserable?"

Long overdue tears well up in my eyes abruptly.

"Fuck Bells." She mutters, placing both our wines on the carpet and gathering me in her arms. "No wonder you're a mess."

And I cry, great heaving sobs.

I cry for the hurt of being deprived of the love of someone as perfect as Ed-ward. I cry for not being enough to hold the others. I cry for all the years I spent fixated on them and my own aching sense of loss. I cry because it's now blown up in the faces of the other people I love.

And I cry because he called me love.

_Love_ . . . .

I miss him so much, how is that even possible?

And when I'm all cried out Bren lays my head in her lap and strokes my hair.

…..

"You know you can't tell anyone, right?" I ask, feeling awful about it, as I hug her beside her cab.

"Bells." She chuckles grimly. "Not even Ted would fuckin' believe me and he still thinks Princess Diana was abducted by aliens."

"I love you."

"Me too."

…..

With Freya still passed out upstairs I plod into the kitchen and mechanically start preparing dinner, I doubt anyone's going to be hungry after the clusterfuck that was last night but I need something to do and I sure as hell won't be going to sleep anytime soon.

I made it through the night. Somehow. But the thought of having to repeat the whole explanation to Dan and Charlie is enough to make me want to throw myself in the nearest river.

I must have passed the window a dozen times before I realise there's a figure standing in the yard.

A sheepish looking Jake, which is actually quite funny when you think about it.

Better able to face him than anyone else at this point I wave a coffee mug at him and he breaks into a grin, trotting across the grass and arriving at the backdoor.

We survey each other awkwardly for a moment and then he opens his arms and I collapse into them.

"You're a wolf."

"No Bella. I'm a man. Jacob Black, the same man you already know. I just change into one from time to time."

"Can you explain now?"

"I think it's time, don't you?"

I nod and we break apart to get ourselves coffee.

"You look exhausted." He says as we perch on our respective stools.

"So do you." I counter.

"Charlie snores." He laughs. "I had to 'top and tail' with him. He wasn't best pleased."

"Thank you, for doing that, for staying with him."

"It was the least I could do." He says, capturing my eyes with his.

"Is he okay?"

"He's probably gonna kill my Dad but he didn't seem to be particularly surprised. Just said it explained a lot and if I ever phased in front of him again he'd shoot me." He chuckles at the look on my face and I envy him his comfort in his skin. "You know Dad is one of the Elders?"

I nod.

"So he knew the Cullens were here."

Another nod. And?

"Bella." He chuckles again. "The devious old git told Charlie the Cullens were in town and that you'd been seeing Carlisle."

"Oh my god." I don't know whether to laugh or cry.

"Yeah. I called him. He swears it was all out of concern for your safety but guess who's eating dinner with the widow Clearwater _alone_?"

"Is it okay that I'm really mad at your Dad right now?" I ask after a moment's contemplation.

"Under the circumstances? Yes. But the poor old coot wasn't expecting a Perfect Storm, he just wanted his love rival out of the way for the Holiday."

I snort, amusement nudging at my anger. It was bound to happen and it was my fault, but _damn_ Billy Black and his inconvenient libido.

"If it's any consolation." Jake says quietly, ducking his head to inspect his coffee. "I'm in deep shit back home. Permission to speak and showing the whole neighbourhood are two different things."

"Why did you?" I ask. "Not that I'm not grateful, I can't tell you how badly I wanted him gone."

"I could sense that." He says, still inspecting his mug with undue attention. "It's very difficult for us to be around vampires, you've seen it, the urge to phase is instinctual."

The vibrating. He was doing it last night too, even if only lightly at first when he was trying to get Carlisle out the door.

"But when they're threatening someone I, um, then it's even harder."

"Ed-ward wasn't threatening me Jake." I huff, ever the defensive fool.

"I'm a Protector Bella. I protect my Family, my Pack, my Tribe, my Country and _all_ the people I love."

Oh.

Oh curse you Edward Cullen. Your legacy and your fucking reappearance in my life.

My urge to speak is surpassed only by my epic failure to be a remotely normal person. Nothing comes out, not even the strangled squeaks I can usually manage in an emotional crisis. The ensuing silence is extremely strained until Jake breaks into his traffic stopping smile and sets his mug down.

"So, you ready for A Brief History of Wolves or are you going to put me to work on lunch?"

God he's something special.

"Can we do both?"

"Alright. But if I stab myself with a paring knife on your head be it. A chef I am _not_."

We get up at the same time and he joins me by the counter that has a year's supply of fresh vegetables on it.

"Thank you." I tell him as he ties the apron I've handed him.

"Thank you." He says with a wry chuckle. "The ex-Mrs Black would have de-bugged me, had me castrated and _then_ called the dog catcher on me."

…..

As we work he fills me in on the details he missed last night and I'm just as fascinated as I was when I first found out about Ed-ward. The mechanics of it, the way it feels, the way they communicate with their minds when they're in wolf form. The impact it had on their lives, how Jake and his peers are a new generation to phase, how he was lucky he wasn't the first, how the presence of the Cullens in my time caused it all.

It's very difficult to live so closely linked, your every secret shared with the rest of the Pack and Jake isn't the only one who has chosen to leave. And when he tells be about imprinting I can fully appreciate why.

Poor Leah Clearwater, she and Sam Uley had been sweethearts for years and were talking about getting married when he started phasing. But it was when he imprinted on her visiting cousin that it all went wrong. Not only did Leah lose the man she loved to fate and her own cousin but once she too started phasing there was never any escape from hearing about their happiness in his mind. Leah rebounded onto a freshly phasing Jake and the rest as they say is history. Their two year affair sounds like the epitome of a love hate relationship and the bitterness it caused on all sides was what eventually drove Jake away and into the army.

I've always known my story wasn't really that horrific but just thinking about Leah, still living down on the Res at La Push, with Sam and Emily and their ever expanding brood of kids, that's painful. The idea that she can also see all that in Sam's head is like some kind of eternal torture.

I want to ask him more about his relationship with her, curious or jealous I'm not sure, but the stairs creak and a dishevelled looking Freya pads into the kitchen.

"Morning." She yawns, helping herself to coffee.

Jake and I exchange glances, waiting to see what happens.

After taking a long sip she turns to face him, appraising him carefully.

"I'm not sure whether to hug you or scratch you behind the ear." She drawls eventually.

"I respond well to both." He deadpans, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Ew." She groans, plopping down on one of the stools and leaning her head on her hands.

"You okay?" I ask her.

"You let me drink." She mutters.

"Sorry, I'm a lousy mother."

"No you're not." She says with a wan smile. "But you have very confusing taste in men."

Jake bites back a laugh and I sigh.

"I'm sorry."

"I'll get over it." She sighs dramatically. "After years of therapy. I've fantasised about kissing a boy that's old enough to be Charlie's grandfather, that's just, there aren't words, and don't get me started on the fact that you got there first . . . ."

Jake sniggers and I shoot him a glare.

"Of course." She continues. "I might get over it quicker if you come shopping with us tomorrow and lavish obscene amounts of money on me."

"You're a real piece of work." Jake commends her with a laugh while my mouth works silently.

"Hey." She chastises him. "My Mom's hot boyfriend is a dog and her ex is a vampire. I'm entitled to be the center of attention for a while."

"You know you can't tell anybody, right?" I remind her, in what is likely to be an oft repeated mantra for the foreseeable future.

"I know." She says with a shudder. "I have the hottest gossip in the world to tell at school on Monday and I can't say a word. I can hear the laughter and see the pointing now. My reputation would be ruined."

Then she looks across at Jake.

"Such a shame we don't have 'Show and Tell' anymore, do you do any tricks?"

"Watch it young lady." He growls playfully.

"This is so weird." I mumble shuffling over to give her a hug.

"I know." She replies, hugging me back. "But it looks like we're all good with weird."

The three of us reflect on that in companionable silence for a moment and then Jake announces that Doctor Death is coming.

…..

Jake excuses himself to, as he put it, 'patrol the perimeter' leaving Freya and I to greet Carlisle.

"We're in the kitchen." I call out when he taps lightly on the door.

He doesn't seem surprised to see Freya as he rounds the corner, giving us both a guarded smile.

"Can I get you a coffee or something?" My polite daughter asks into the awkward silence.

"No thank you." He responds. "I'm on a special diet."

"Oh yeah." She mutters, flushing up like a tomato and burying her face in her coffee mug.

He glances between us and I nod. As of now no secrets from Freya, other than the usual Mom type ones.

"Your Mother told you everything?"

Freya nods and swallows nervously, a lot less comfortable with Carlisle than she was with Jake.

"He's not a TV vampire." I tell her. "He isn't going to glamour you, drop a set of fangs or suck your blood."

"Strict vegetarian." He confirms with a wide sparkling smile. "And no fangs."

Freya's natural curiosity and her nerves war for a moment and then her nosiness wins out.

"Mom said you've never eaten a human."

"Never."

"Why not?"

"I may be a vampire but it's my choice whether or not I'm a monster."

"Do you really sparkle in the sunlight?"

"Like diamonds." He confirms.

"Cool. How old are you?"

"Twenty three."

She raises an eyebrow.

"I was twenty three when I was changed. I've been a vampire for three hundred and fifty years."

"You're English?"

He nods.

"You don't sound it."

"That is because one is not currently trying." He says in accent that would cut glass and makes her giggle snort.

"You were a Pastor?"

"For a while."

"And now you're a Doctor?"

And they're off.

I keep an eye on them as I make myself busy with dinner again. Strangely proud of her for her ability to ask questions I only ever voiced in my head. And grateful to him for his easy accommodation of them.

I muster a laugh at the look on her face when she shakes hands with him to test the fact that he's cold and hard. And I tamp down my horror when she leans in to take a long sniff at his neck, testing my statement that they smell wonderful.

…..

"So, Edward, isn't really your son?"

The potato I'm peeling escapes into the sink and I fish it out blindly.

"No. He's the first person I changed."

"Why?"

"He was dying, of the Spanish Flu, his Mother begged me to save him."

"Was he happy, that you did?"

Carlisle sighs.

"Immortality isn't all it sounds Freya. We've all struggled to come to terms with it. In our own ways."

"Is that why he hurt Mom?"

The potato escapes me completely . . . .

"Yes." Carlisle answers quietly. "I believe it is."

"Was he right?" She asks.

"No, Freya, I don't believe he was."

Silence.

"What will he do now?" She wants to know.

I turn away from the potatoes to find Carlisle looking at me.

"I don't know."

I busy myself with the turkey for a moment but when I'm done they're both still regarding me like exhibit A.

"Why did he come last night?" I ask to break the silence.

"He was following me, he was curious about why I'd been spending so much time at the hospital, keeping clothes there."

"So he didn't come for Mom?" Freya asks, looking disappointed, damn her.

"He would have known she was here as soon as he got close enough. It was his choice to make his presence known, he would have just waited for me to leave if he hadn't wanted to see her."

"I can't believe he didn't know sooner." I sigh, reminding myself that this is all my fault.

"Ah." Carlisle says heavily. "Edward and I aren't as close as we used to be, haven't been for a while, I doubt he wants to see the contents of my mind, even when he gets the chance."


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 19 And it Just Keeps Coming**

**BPOV**

"What? Why?" I demand, far more interested than I should be for my own sanity.

He casts a glance at Freya.

"Alright." She huffs. "Some things are private, I know, and I'm in dire need of a shower anyway."

We watch her leave.

"After we left you in Forks Edward went looking for Victoria."

"Victoria?" I gasp, remembering James's mate, a terrifyingly inhuman redhead.

"He was concerned, we all were, that she'd come after you."

I swallow, fear trickling down my spine, I'd forgotten all about her, and the other one they didn't kill, Laurent.

"He followed her down to South America but lost her in the jungle outside Rio." He smiles slightly. "Edward is gifted at many things but it turned out tracking wasn't one of them."

Then he sighs, dropping his head to inspect his hands.

"He couldn't pick up her trail again but he refused to come home. He wouldn't tell us where he was. Alice couldn't see either, we assumed he'd gone back to Forks to guard you but she wouldn't let us leave Alaska to check, just kept telling us that it would end up with you dead.

It was a miserable time for us. I know you don't like to hear it but it felt like we'd lost two members of our family and were powerless to help either.

Alice saw when Renee decided to take you back to Florida, she said things would get better for you and Edward would come home, eventually. Again we assumed he'd followed you to Florida but was keeping his promise to stay out of your life.

It was about six months later when the murders started in Seattle. Jasper was keeping an eye on things and eventually decided someone was creating too many newborns for them to control. We didn't want the Volturi to come so when the press started talking 'most prolific serial killer ever' we decided to travel to Seattle and sort the problem out ourselves."

I nod. _He_ explained to me about the Volturi, a sort of vampire ruling class, and the need to keep the existence of vampires a secret.

"When we got there we found the newborns were being created by Victoria and Laurent. I still don't know why but afterwards Edward surmised that she'd learnt about newborn armies in South America and was creating one to get past the wolves and get to you."

"Jesus." I mutter. Thinking of Charlie and the wolves, and of the Cullens fighting for me even after they'd left me.

Carlisle still hasn't looked up and his hands are wringing now.

"There weren't too many of them but newborns are faster and stronger than mature vampires, wilder and less controlled too."

A pause.

"There was a battle."

My stomach ties itself in knots as I wait for him to continue.

"Alice and E-Esme, didn't make it."

"They're dead?" I gasp thoughtlessly, unable to grasp the concept, even though I saw James die myself.

He doesn't answer but his body seems to slump in on itself and I'm off my stool with my arms tightly round him before I even realise it.

"Carlisle. _Please_." I beg. "Tell me it's not true . . . ."

He takes a deep breath but otherwise doesn't move.

"Edward came home, afterwards. But it hasn't been the same, for any of us, since."

Tears are streaming down my face now. For Alice and Esme. For Carlisle and Jasper. For Emmett and even Rosalie. I was so fixated on my own suffering I couldn't focus on anyone else's and he's been trying to tell me, I realise, all along. All that time we've spent together, I was so grateful I didn't have to deal with the rest of them that I didn't even ask if they were okay, if he was okay . . . .

…..

Punch drunk is how I would describe myself, I was still reeling from Carlisle's revelation when Charlie and Dan turned up, hadn't even begun to think about how I'd explain myself to Charlie.

"Carlisle . . . ." I chase him down as he tries to make a stealthy exit. "You can't just leave, we need to talk, I'm sorry . . . ."

"Bella." He says quietly, cupping my cheek gently with his hand. "We have plenty of time to talk, right now you need to focus on your family."

"But I didn't . . . . we haven't . . . . I wasn't . . . ."

I've been so fucking self-absorbed.

"Wednesday?" He asks softly.

"Okay."

"Has he been here all night?" Charlie demands the minute I show my face in the kitchen.

"No." I answer more curtly than I intended. "Dan, how long do you have before you have to get back to Cath?"

"Not long." He replies, casting a glance at Charlie's rigid form. "She doesn't know anything about what happened last night and I'd like to keep that way if you don't mind."

I nod enthusiastically, I'm all for damage control at this point, I'm pretty sure I couldn't cope with anything else right now . . . .

"Cath thinks Bren was staying the night and you didn't have a bed for Charlie." He smiles slightly. "She also thinks Charlie has a quaintly old fashioned problem with Jake being in your house unsupervised and that's why he had to bunk at ours too."

"Thanks." I murmur to the accompaniment of Charlie's derisive snort.

Silence.

Charlie's just itching to get going on the interrogation but Dan's presence seems to be holding him back.

"Well." I sigh. "Grab some coffee and let's get this over with, I'm assuming you both have questions?"

"You bet I do Isabella Swan."

"Fine Ch-Dad."

…..

I wasn't expecting a miracle but Charlie's still massively pissed at me when we sit down to eat, Freya and Jake keeping up a fairly light hearted wolf related conversation while Charlie and I eye each other warily.

Dan at least went home reasonably mollified that none of us are in any danger but I don't think he's very pleased about the turn of events either. I love him and I respect him, the knowledge that he agrees with Charlie that I've been foolish in associating with the Cullens again fills me with an indescribable feeling of guilt. Another leaden weight to carry round inside me.

I need to make this right somehow and unfortunately I can only see one, painful, way of doing it. The lead weight for that one is already forming, filling me up and choking off my ability to eat.

When I lay my fork down Charlie scowls at me.

Resolved to ignore him I pick my wine glass up instead.

'You okay?' Jake mouths at me.

I manage a half smile which he returns with a look of understanding.

Dinner drags on, everyone able to eat except me and though the atmosphere gradually eases thanks to Freya and Jake's efforts to soften Charlie up, I've never been so grateful to be left to the washing up in my entire life.

Unable to face the wider implications of last night and this morning I force my mind onto innocuous things. The sound of the TV in the Den, always too loud when Charlie's watching a game. Loading the dishwasher, cleaning, tidying, pointless polishing, making turkey sandwiches and laying them out with chips for later. Sorting out the laundry, balancing my checkbook, mindlessly sipping my wine and wondering if Jake's the source of Mr Carmody's naked people obsession. Speaking of whom I'd better go check on him tomorrow, it's not his fault he fell and unwittingly unleashed Ed-ward on me.

"God what a mess." I huff.

"Looks pretty immaculate to me." Jake drawls as he grabs more beer from the refrigerator. "You've cleaned like a demon, why don't you come and relax."

"Um . . . ."

"Bella." He chuckles, coming over and slinging an arm over my shoulders. "He's watching the game, he wouldn't even notice if I phased unless I blocked his view. And based on past experience he'll be off to bed as soon as it's over."

I sigh.

"Don't be too hard on him." He adds. "He's madder at himself for not realising what was going on back then than he is with you."

"I've made such a mess of everything."

He puts the beer down and pulls me tightly into his chest, a warm and relaxing place to be.

"Not on your own you didn't. It'll all work itself out babe." He assures me. "Just give it time."

…..

He was right about Charlie, the last and strangely least awkward part of the day was when I showed him into the guest room and told him Jake would be sleeping with _me_. His mouth opened and closed like a fish and then he withdrew, grumbling under his moustache, for the night.

I plod to my bedroom to find Jake already tucked up in bed, laughing to himself.

"What?" I ask, suddenly aware of my _total_ exhaustion.

"Super hearing." He snorts. "He's not happy. I'm staying away from Forks for a while, he's planning a cell at the station with my name on it, right next to Dad's."

Wearily I brush my teeth and then strip off to slide into bed beside him, sighing when he spoons up and wraps his long arms around me.

Then I snicker.

"What?" It's his turn to ask.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping in a basket at the bottom of the bed?"

"Funny Swan, _hilarious_ . . . ." His voice is retreating to some far distant shore. ". . . . you know it's not like I haven't . . . ."

…..

Black Friday.

Jake and I get up early, with great difficulty on my part, to see Freya off with Bren and Cath for their annual shopping extravaganza.

Charlie's mood seems to have improved overnight but I still get the gruff Fatherly lecture on responsibilities and making sensible choices. So hard to focus on . . . .

"Bells." He sighs finally, conscious of Jake at the kerb with the engine running. "I guess if you tell me they won't physically hurt you I can trust your judgement, you spent enough time with them before after all. But please, kid, don't be a deer in the headlights this time. Protect yourself, think about what'll happen when they're gone."

"Ch-Dad . . . ."

He cuts me off with a rib endangering hug and then jumps of the porch and lopes up to Jake's truck.

"And Bells." He calls back as climbs in the truck. "I'll be speaking to the dog on your behalf, making sure he's housebroken and such."

Oh god, I've a feeling I'm gonna owe Jake big time for _this_ airport run . . . .

…..

While Jake's gone I soak in the tub and perform some of the routine maintenance tasks required on an aging body that didn't sleep for the best part of thirty six hours. Namely, laying out all the tools required and then falling asleep before I've even picked up a razor.

My dream is a jumbled mass of all the people I've cared about, going about their business in what looks like a mall that only sells computers, interacting with each other and the computers but never realising that I'm there with them, they talk to me via the devices, Facebook, Twitter, Skype, listen and react to what I have to say but never _see _me. And gradually the whole dream mall is filled with creeping, seeping, cold, freezing up the stores one by one, driving the people away till there is only me left . . . .

"Bella. Bella. Wake up babe you're turning an interesting shade of blue."

"What, shit, what?"

I sit up rubbing my eyes with icy cold hands.

"You okay?" Jake asks, looming over me.

"Yeah, sorry, shit, must have fallen asleep." My voice is thick and unfamiliar.

"I'll start the shower, it'll warm you up."

I nod, shivering as I struggle upright. The water's freezing, I must have been out for hours.

"_Are_ you okay?" He queries as I clamber out of the tub, without a thought for my nakedness, but with an unwarranted degree of wobbliness.

…..

Black Saturday and Black Sunday.

On Black Monday Jake had to go back to work and I had to muster the strength to repel Freya's offers to stay home with me, despite my feverish imaginings about what would happen when she met the Cullens in school.

Flu sucks.

When I wasn't out cold I was too weak to do anything but think, and fret. And god knows I had _plenty_ of raw material for both.

There so many things I should have been doing and lying flat on my back wasn't one of them.

…..

Gray Tuesday.

My mental meanderings had finally reached some conclusions and I managed to totter downstairs, I flaked out on the couch, but progress was progress.

Freya informed me the Cullens weren't in school for the week.

…..

Murky Wednesday.

I spoke to Dan on the phone. He doesn't seem to be any different, vampires and wolves were not mentioned.

I spoke to Bren. Work are managing without me but I've some layouts to do for the new clients because I'm the one that took the briefing. Ted told Bren that he'd told his Mother he was going to ask her to marry him. Which is a slightly odd proposal, but judging by the happiness oozing out of the phone at me, a welcome one. Vampires and wolves were not mentioned.

Cath rang to see if I need anything and Jake rang every half an hour to check I wasn't over doing it.

I rang Carlisle, he asked a lot of Doctory questions and then threatened a house call if I wasn't back to normal by Friday. There was a lot I tried to talk to him about but he wasn't having it, insisting once again that there was plenty of time.

And I felt like I was fiddling while Rome burned.

And, if I'm honest, I waited every day, with knots in my empty stomach, for _him _to come . . . .

…..

Shady Thursday I worked from home.

And on Friday, still feeling like crap, but progress is progress, I dragged myself into the city and collapsed on my desk to the mirth of my healthy colleagues.

Bren and Shona fussed around me like Mother Hens and somehow I made it through the day. Well, most of it anyway, sick people are always packed off early at my place.

The plaza is once again gray with drizzle as I drag myself through it, focussing mindlessly on my booted feet as they hit the flagstones and send out ripples and splatters of water.

"Bella?"

Oh shit. No.

I grind to a halt and force my neck to raise my head.

Emmett and Jasper.

Oh goody. I'm going to faint and, hopefully, hit my head, really, really, hard.


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 20 Sensible Choices**

**BPOV**

"Bells." Giant arms catch me, setting me easily back on my feet and keeping me there. "The Old Man said your clumsiness issues were history but clearly he's going a bit senile."

"Shut up Em, trying to pass out here." I mumble, screwing my eyes tight shut.

"I'm no expert Baby Bells but I'm pretty sure that's not possible."

I groan.

"She's still sick Jazz." He continues happily as a cool meaty hand presses against my forehead. "Doctor Dazzle was right. Grab her car?"

I sway a little bit and Em tightens his grip.

"S'alright Bells. We're sorted. Jazz is fetching your car."

Thoughtlessly I pat my coat pocket but I have indeed been pickpocketed, not that keeping a death grip on my keys would have made an awful lot of difference to this particular ambush . . . .

"S'okay Bells, we'll see you home. Just relax . . . ."

Relax? My feet aren't even touching the ground. Get off me . . . . let me go . . . .

I struggle ineffectually but after an indeterminate amount of time I open my eyes just as I'm being slotted into my own passenger seat beside a somewhat amused Jasper. All six foot whatever of him.

"Resistance is futile." He observes dryly as Em squeezes himself into the back seat and we pull away. "You might as well relax or something."

"This is kidnapping." I grumble as the car speeds through the city streets.

"Taking you home is not kidnapping Bells." Em admonishes me. "It's an act of inhuman kindness, you look like shit."

I groan again and close my eyes. I feel like shit and I'm not in a remotely fit state to deal with this . . . .

"Why are you bothering me?"

"Bothering?" Em asks quietly, sounding hurt.

Oh Jesus. Really?

"I told you Em." Jasper says just as quietly. "And Carlisle told you. Just because you have missed her for eighteen years does not mean she has missed you. Or us."

Oh yeah. Nope. Didn't miss any of you at all. Never even gave you a second thought.

"I am sorry Bella." Jasper continues. "I can feel you are not happy about this but please believe me when I say it was never our intention to cause you any distress. The big lug was desperate to see you and could not be dissuaded, and I, well I have my own reasons for wanting to speak to you."

I keep my mouth firmly shut, unsure what's going to come out of it as Em sighs, the leather creaking as he sits back.

The atmosphere is so tense that even in my less than healthy state the silence and movement of the car isn't enough to lull me off to sleep.

Instead I open my eyes again as Jasper pulls up in my driveway.

"Sorry." He says, proffering my keys as I open my door.

This time my gusty sigh turns into a coughing fit that makes my eyes tear and my ribs ache. By the time I'm done both of them are standing in the driveway beside me, regarding me with some alarm.

Ugh.

I don't know what to do.

I've made a resolution to cut the Cullens out of my life, and more importantly Freya's, but standing here with the two of them it seems like such a harsh thing to do. For me and them. And Alice, god I haven't even said anything to Jasper about Alice . . . .

"Look." I begin as the silence stretches out. "I presume Carlisle's told you everything?"

Em nods, still looking chastened.

"Then you know about my daughter?"

Two nods.

"Then you can understand why I, why I can't . . . . damn." I shake my head. "You can't be here. You both need to leave."

Em hangs his head and shuffles his feet like a little boy being scolded but Jasper holds my eyes, his own filled with understanding.

"Then Bella." He says formally. "I would like to take this opportunity to apologise for what happened the night of your birthday party. I should have been able to control myself, I let Alice down and I let you down."

"Jasper . . . ." I pause, knowing what I want to say because I've practised it in my head often enough, but not quite able to believe that I'm finally getting the chance to use the words. "I cut my finger, it was an accident, and Ed-ward threw me into a pile of glass, I never blamed you for what happened, not even afterwards and if there was anything to forgive I would've done it ages ago."

"Thank you Ma'am." He says, dipping his head and backing up a step.

"I'm so sorry . . . Jasper . . . . about A-A-Alice . . . ."

He bobs his head but retreats another step, refusing to look at me.

Which just leaves Em, the guy I wanted to be my big brother so badly it almost used to hurt.

"Bells . . . ." He chokes out, looking utterly devastated.

"I'm sorry Em . . . . I just . . . . _can't_ . . . ."

My chest feels so tight it's a wonder I can still breathe, stupid cough . . . .

"Come on man . . . ." Jasper murmurs, plucking at Em's sleeve. "We should go, we still have a lot of work to do . . . ."

"Goodbye Bells." He rumbles, allowing Jasper to tug him away.

Oh hell. It really hurts . . . .

…..

"You're cooking?" Freya asks as she hustles into the kitchen and hurls her backpack onto the center island.

"I always cook."

"Well, yeah, but it's the first time this week. What's on the menu?"

"Chilli."

"Awesome, I'm starved, its French Week in the cafeteria and I'd rather eat my own toenail clippings. What's wrong with those people, its not like they live a third world country and have to eat that sh-um stuff."

"Snails are considered a delicacy." I admonish.

"Not by any teenager in this town they're not." She says with finality as she pulls some juice from the refrigerator. "Are you alright? You're eyes are like p-eep holes in the snow."

"Yeah." I muster a weak smile. "Still feeling a bit rough."

"Early night for you then."

"Again?" I whine, mimicking her usual response to such an edict.

…..

"You don't look so good." I point out, earning myself a brief view of her tongue. "And don't stick that thing out at me, you're not in Kindergarten anymore."

"I'm fine." She huffs as she fiddles with her hair in the hall mirror. "Just didn't sleep very well."

I snort. She's staying at Maisie's tonight and the chances of catching up on her sleep are slim to non-existent. Especially since what she's packed in her bag has a distinct 'party' air about it.

"Where are you going tonight?"

"Andre's having a few people over."

"His parents' home?"

"Um, not sure?"

"Ring me at midnight."

"Mom . . . ."

"I'm not saying you have to be in by then, just that you have to ring and let me know where you are."

"Can't I just text?"

Mom brow.

"Okay. I'll wake myself up to call you at midnight."

"Such a good girl." I murmur.

"You're mean."

"Oh no. Mean would be telling your Dad you're going to a house party and having him come get you at midnight like he did last time."

She shudders at the memory. Apparently he'd pried apart several heaving couples before he found Freya innocently playing pool in the basement.

"What time's Jake getting here?"

"Any time now, I've told him to bring Chinese or he's spending the night chained out in the yard."

"Poor Jake." She laughs. "There's no end to the comedic material is there?"

"Nope."

"I heard that." Jake grumbles as he shoulders through the door laden with takeout bags.

"Jesus, how much did you get?" I gasp.

"Saturday night special." He chuckles, wafting the bags at me. "One of everything good."

"_Mmmm_." Freya moans. "Smells awesome."

"It does, doesn't it?" He grins, yanking the bags back as she tries to peer into them. "Too bad there's none for you."

"You'll get fat." She huffs, hefting her bag as a car horn toots outside.

"Not me." He says with a wink. "I can run a hundred miles in a night. Your Mom's in trouble though . . . ."

…..

"That's the most I've eaten in well over a week." I groan, setting the plate down and swinging my feet up on the couch behind Jake.

"Sure you don't want any more?"

I shake my head and lean it back on the cushions, I feel like I've swallowed a beach ball but it was all _so_ good . . . .

"What movie did you put in?"

"I brought some manly action."

"Any romance in it?"

"Does rampant sex count?"

"No."

"Ah."

I snicker and he pats my distended belly gently.

"You're probably gonna sleep through most of it anyway." He points out.

"True, but not until you stop stuffing your face so I can use you as a pillow."

"So demanding." He complains as he sets his plate down, cracks open a beer and swings my feet into his lap so he can scoot in behind me. "Comfy?"

"Yep."

"Good. No snoring."

"I don't snore."

"Yeah, Bella, you do and I don't want you drowning out the explosions . . . . _oof!_ . . . . what was that for?"

"Just making sure my elbow still works."

"It does babe, it really does."

Our laughter is drowned out by the first explosion on the screen.

…..

"Was there a plot?" I ask as the credits roll.

"Not that I noticed." He concedes.

"My ears are still ringing."

"That's because the surround sound on your TV has finally been used for the purposes for which it was intended."

"Humph."

"Dessert?"

"You got dessert?" I ask, struggling upright.

"In the kitchen."

Energised I ping off the couch, swaying slightly before diving through the archway, I hope its got toffee, I could murder for toffee . . . . Jake overtakes me in two long strides, holding me back as I try to get round him to the refrigerator. The ensuing struggle is unseemly and ends up with me pinned against the refrigerator rather than pulling dessert victoriously from it. It could have been hot, like the scene in the movie, but we're both laughing so hard I end up sliding bonelessly to the floor while he nonchalantly opens the top door and pulls a banoffee pie out.

"Bren didn't make it but I'm assured its top quality nevertheless."

"From Bakorama?"

"Yep."

"There'd better ice cream."

"There is but you'll have to get up, you're blocking the door."

I proffer my hand and he jerks me easily to my feet, setting me down on a stool. The supernatural strength surprises me for a moment but then I shrug it off. Wore that t-shirt out _years_ ago.

I watch with hungry eyes as he sets out plates, heats the pie in the microwave and dollops vanilla ice cream on the top. It may seem polite that I waited to dive in but that's only because he's holding the spoons hostage and I can't be bothered to move.

"Mmmm." I lean over the pie and inhale deeply. "That smells _amazing_."

"Did you know you had a dessert worshipping problem?" He asks casually as he loads his spoon with the perfect combination of pie and ice cream.

"Yep, now give me my spoon before I get nasty."

Laughing he hands it over while making a great show of stuffing his own heavily laden one in his face.

We eat for a moment in appreciative silence. Not as good as Bren's but a very close second.

"Have you decided what you're going to do?" He asks, referring to the conversations we'd had during the week.

"I don't have a choice do I?" I answer. "Carlisle's become a good friend but I have to consider Freya, I'm her Mom. I can't have anything to do with them again because she should never have had to have anything to do with them in the first place."

"I'm surprised you _want_ anything to do with them after the way they treated you."

"It isn't that simple. You don't stop caring about people just because you realise they probably aren't worth it."

Aren't they? They were always good people, that's why it hurt so much when I thought they'd rejected me. But they didn't really, did they?

Argh!

It doesn't matter. Responsibility and grown up choices. That part of my life is over and should never have been allowed to re-surface. Em's face might haunt me forever but I'll live with it to do the right thing by Freya.

"Babe?"

"Sorry Jake. I know it probably sounds stupid to you but, it is hard, after all these years. I know I shouldn't care about them, but . . . ." I cram another spoonful of pie in and chew it methodically. "Em and Jasper met me out of work yesterday.

Jasper's wife is dead Jake. My best friend. I spent all these years being mad at her for abandoning me and she was dead. All those years and she was _dead_."

"That doesn't mean she would have contacted you."

"It doesn't mean she wouldn't have either." I scrape my plate, unwilling to let any pie or ice cream escape me. "And Esme Jake. I know you remember her. She may have looked like just a vampire to you but she was the nicest, kindest, most motherly person I ever met. She loved all of them, Carlisle, so much."

"She left you too."

"She did." I concede. "And in its way that probably hurt more than Ed-ward's leaving did. But as far as she was concerned he was her son. I'd support Freya, in the end, that way, I think."

"You don't sound very sure."

"Devil's advocate?"

He grins and cuts us both another slice of pie.

"I suppose that's fair."

But it gets me thinking. Supposing Freya brought a guy home that I adored, what I would I do if she ultimately decided he wasn't what she wanted. I wouldn't force him on her that's for sure, even if I thought she was being stupid.

Oh Esme. That must have sucked.

"I need to talk to Carlisle."

He raises an eyebrow at me over his spoonful.

"Two wrongs don't make a right." I pontificate, waving my own spoon around and then licking it. "He deserves to know why I can't see him anymore. And I hope . . . ."

No, that's a lie.

"Maybe they'll move? They've done it once before to protect me. Surely they'd do it for Freya?"

Silence as Jake observes me carefully.

"What?"

"Castle Dracula has been a hive of activity." He says evenly. "They're packing."

"Oh."

And they haven't been in school.

Déjà vu.

Ouch.


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 21 Insanity**

**BPOV**

Done facing up to things I allow him to drag me back to the couch, crack me a beer, and start a new movie.

More action.

Can you dislocate your jaw yawning? Feels like you can . . . .

Warm, so warm with Jake wrapped around me. My body is torn between carnality and the desire to sleep, warm and protected . . . . loved and cared for . . . . relaxed . . . .

…..

"Ringing."

"Huh?"

"Your cell's ringing, make it stop."

I would if I could find the fucking thing . . . . left butt cheek vibrating . . . . must be down there somewhere . . . . Aha!

"Lo?" If you need picking up Freya Monroe you'll be taking the garbage out, one craptastic item at a time, until you go to college . . . .

"Bella?"

"Carlisle?"

"Are you awake?"

"Am now, sorta, I think . . . ." I mumble.

"You need to come to the hospital."

"What . . . . Why?" Cold, despite Jake's warmth enfolding me. Or maybe because he's as tense as I suddenly am.

"Freya is here. She's been in an accident."

Pause.

"You didn't tell me not to worry."

"No. I didn't. But I will tell you to hurry."

…..

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Dan finally picks up.

"Lo . . . . Bells?"

"Freya!"

Jake swerves around a corner and I nearly drop the phone.

"Freya! Accident! Hospital! Come now!"

"What?"

"Are you fucking deaf?"

Scrabbling sounds, muffled cursing.

"No. I'm fucking half-dressed already. What happened?"

"I don't know. Just come Dan, please."

"Ow, shit."

"What?"

"Lego on the stairs, little bar stewards . . . . down Abe . . . . alright . . . . I'm out . . . . will see you there . . . ."

Beep . . . beep . . . beep.

Jake's huge hand closes around mine.

I was asleep on the couch, I didn't even realise she hadn't rung me.

Oh fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck . . . .

…..

Jake asks questions of everybody as I barrel through them to the emergency room, pulling up short when I see my baby, laid out on a bed, with an oxygen mask over her battered face and a flock of Doctors hovering over her talking gibberish in urgent tones . . . .

"Freya?"

Oh shit. Freya . . . .

"Bella."

I whirl to find Carlisle beside me. His steadying hand on my elbow.

"What the fuck?"

"Car. Blunt head trauma."

"How?"

"There were drugs at the party, the police were called, there was a fight, seems she got caught up in it, defending her friend, and ended up toppling out into the road. I'm so sorry."

"Sorry?"

"Bella . . . ." Dan, with Jake hot on his heels. "What the fuck?"

"Her spine . . . ." Her Doctor tries to explain.

"Sorry?" I ask him.

"There isn't much we can do . . . . her brain is swollen . . . . her spine is crushed . . . ."

"What the fuck?" Her father demands as Jake grabs his wrist.

"Shut up Dan!" I howl, understanding everything and focussing on Carlisle.

"She's not going to make it." He whispers.

In my head there is a heavily loaded silence even though in reality Carlisle and I are surrounded by a cacophony of noise, talking, restrained shouting, demands for our attention. I've never fallen out of believing that you can hold entire conversations with your eyes if you know someone well enough, not even after Ed-ward seemed to prove to me that you can apparently miss-interpret them fairly catastrophically. There can be no misunderstandings about this silent exchange however.

"Yes she is." I assure him.

His eyes are filled with compassion as his cold hand briefly cups my cheek, and my heart, already hurting, lurches painfully in my chest. I'm asking such a lot of him. For so many reasons. And yet I'd ask _James_ to do it if that were the only chance she had. Even _him_ . . . .

Still with the compassionate look. Is he going to refuse? My eyes dart from his to Freya's and back again. No, he can't do that, she's such an amazing person, if anyone deserves a chance at immortality, would fit with the Cullens, its Freya. She'd rock it like she does everything else in her life.

And please, please, Carlisle, don't be looking at me like because it's already too late . . . . I couldn't take it . . . . there has to be a point to all this . . . . to the experiences and pains of my life . . . .

"Are you sure?" He asks quietly.

"Bella!" Dan demands, shouldering between us, rough in his agitation. "They want to try a new procedure . . . ."

My eyes stay on Carlisle's and he shakes his head infinitesimally, mouthing 'it will take too long and it won't work'.

"Dan. We need to talk." The calm authority in my voice is as much of a surprise to me as it is to him.

"Bella, no."

"Not now Jake."

Grabbing Dan's elbow I swivel him before he can regain his balance and shove him roughly through the door and out into the corridor. There is no time for doubt or lamentation.

Behind me I hear Carlisle preventing Jake from following us.

With Dan still off balance I manage to swing him into the wall and have a stab at holding him there.

"What the fuck?" He's angry, fighting to give me a chance when his every cell is screaming for him to get back to Freya.

"She's going to die Dan."

"What? No! They said . . . ."

"Carlisle has been a Doctor for the best part of three hundred years Dan, he's seen things the others haven't, done things the others haven't. He can hear and smell things the others _can't_."

"What . . . ."

"Think Dan, I need you to _think_."

"He can help her? Something they haven't tried?"

"No Dan. He can't save her. At least not the way you're thinking."

"What . . . ."

"He can bite her Dan. Change her. Make her a vampire. Venom heals anything, anything." My fingers are crossed. "She can live Dan, forever."

"What? No!"

"Nothing will ever hurt her Dan. She'll never get sick. She'll never age. She'll always be our perfect daughter."

"But the Doctors might . . . ."

"Her brain is swollen Dan, her spine is . . . . _crushed_ . . . . what if they do? What then Dan? Do you want her to live like that?"

"This can't be happening . . . ."

"It is. And the longer we leave it the less chance there is he can save her."

"How can you be so . . . ."

"Focussed? I know what's possible Dan and I really _really_ don't want our daughter to die."

"Who will look after her?"

"Carlisle will look after her. All the Cullens will, she'll be part of the family."

He narrows his eyes at me and I wince, knowing what's coming.

"But they left _you_ . . . ."

"Freya is not me Dan. And she will never be alone."

"How do you know that?" He demands hotly, shoving away from the wall and me away from him at the same time.

Strong arms catch me and don't let me go.

"Because she's going to ask Doctor Death to change her too." Jake growls.

"Are you all fucking insane?" Dan exclaims, throwing his hands up and allowing his body to flop back against the wall.

"I'm her Mother Dan." I explain, as much for Jake as for him. "I won't allow her to go through this alone. It's my responsibility to be there for her."

"This is insane." This time he's whispering and rubbing his hands over his face. "Absolutely fucking insane."

His shoulders slump and I reach toward him but suddenly he comes alive again, finding the strength to shove both Jake and I out of the way and bulldoze his way back into the room.

I take a deep breath, desperate to hang onto my calm assurance, because I can't even begin to see the alternative right now.

"It's not what he wants." Jake murmurs.

"He doesn't understand."

"Neither do I."

"Yes you do." I sigh, closing my eyes for a moment as I lean against him.

"I wish I didn't."

I turn in his arms and he goes completely still as I gaze up at him.

His eyes are dark but not unfathomable pits. That conversation we should have had in my kitchen . . . . with an unexpectedly painful pang of regret I realise that it isn't ever going to happen now. And so does he. I don't know if I love him, still not sure I'm capable of it, but I would have liked to have been able to find out. And I would have been able to, I know, no matter how selfish the desire to try on my part he would have been man enough, _good_ enough, patient enough, to have let me.

What do I say to him? Sorry? Sorry we never got the chance to prove that I probably couldn't love you, no matter how much you deserved it or I wanted it . . . .

"You don't have to do this." He whispers.

"I know I don't." I answer with complete and brutal honesty.

I have no illusions that eternity will be a breeze for me now, offering me nothing but an endless stretch of days. But if I can do anything to make it work for her? What choice do I have? Master avoider that I am there's no way I'm prepared to think it through any further than that. I will deal with whatever comes later, later, it's what I do . . . .

I disengage myself from his arms and make to follow Dan back into the room but Jake captures me again and lands a searing, heart rending, kiss on me which sends tears cascading down my cheeks. I've been kissed like that before, once, a long time ago, only that time I didn't realise it was goodbye.

Done, with my lips still tingling and hot, and with me unable to look at him through shame and remorse, I still let him take my hand and lead me back into the room.

Where nothing in this nightmare scenario has changed. The lights are still over bright. The walls are still colorless yet somehow exuding an air of sterile hopelessness that only a hospital wall can. The machines are still beeping, the various tubes and lines still thrumming disturbingly, Doctors and Nurses still fluttering round Freya like butterflies on acid.

One of the Doctor's is talking earnestly to Dan and Jake walks me over to join them, allowing me a closer and no less heart breaking look at my poor daughter. I haven't even touched her, spoken to her, held her . . . . Yet my resolve hardens, Freya's life will not end like this, not like this, not while there's still breath in my body and a vampire coming to stand beside me. If needs be this is one parenting decision I will make alone. As if he's heard my thoughts Dan glares at me angrily as the faceless Doctor re-caps what he was telling him for my benefit.

I have to fight down my awareness of time slipping away as the Doctor explains Freya's condition to Dan and I. Carlisle asks a couple of questions, seeking to draw out their certainty that the experimental procedure they're considering will actually help Freya, they're opinions of the outcomes if it either succeeds or fails. And my heart breaks for Dan, and for me, as I watch the hope draining out of him. But still we listen . . . . and still he holds himself rigid, refusing to look at me . . . .

The cold touch of Carlisle's hand on mine drags my attention away from the dry medical prose outlining the misery or death that awaits my vibrant daughter, the still living proof that there are some best parts of me that can be salvaged from my life.

'We're running out of time.' He mouths and I look across at Freya but find myself immediately distracted by one of the Doctor's still toiling over her prone form.

Our eyes meet, gold to brown, both sets flashing in recognition and understanding.

This Doctor's movements become a blur and an urgent alarm sounds, sending the others spinning away into a frenzy and my heart into overdrive.

Time. All anyone needs is time.

Em's words from yesterday come back to me and I close my eyes, letting my knees buckle and pitch me forward, sweeping my free arm out and taking at least one cart of tonelessly bleeping medical equipment and one Nurse with me as I go, praying it's enough as my head hits the bottom of the bed frame.


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 22 How To Make a Zombie**

**BPOV**

I open my eyes to darkness.

Momentarily disorientated.

Such a brief respite.

Memories flood into me and my mind, just an ordinary little human one, tries to fly in several different directions at once.

Just not possible to do.

And moments later I'm hunched over on the cold tacky floor retching my guts up and trying to call out for help at the same time . . . .

Running footsteps, quiet words, my name on repeat, soft warm hands, two sets, lifting me up, placing me back on the bed, holding me upright, sliding one of those cardboard receptacles under my chin . . . . laying me down, smoothing my forehead, checking my vital signs, calling out for a Doctor . . . .

"Freya?" I demand in a much stronger voice than I would have felt possible.

"Who is Freya?" The Doctor, not one of the ones I was hoping for, asks as he examines me. "Keep her still please Nurse, the patient has a head injury. What's going on here?"

"Bella Swan, she regained consciousness a few minutes ago Doctor Packer." A crisp voice answers. "We found her out of bed and vomiting."

A pause.

"Freya is her daughter."

"And where is the child in question?" Packer snaps.

Another pause.

"Well?" He continues, shining a light into my eyes and peering at me like an owl.

"Freya Monroe Sir." The Nurse answers quietly, her grip on me tightening. "This is the lady who hit her head in ER earlier this morning."

The light goes out and the Doctor withdraws with a quiet "Ah".

"Where is she?" I demand, trying to fight my way fully upright. "Where's my daughter? What's going on? What am I doing here? Where is everybody?"

Why won't anybody answer me? What is it a national fucking secret?

My struggling redoubles as they fling words at me that aren't what I want to hear . . . .

"Where's my daughter? Where is Doctor Cullen? Why isn't he here? Where are Dan and Jake? Stop talking medical gibberish and tell me where my daughter is! I want to see her. I want to see her now!"

"Try to relax Bella. You have a nasty head injury . . . . just going to give you something to help . . . ."

"Relax? You fucking relax! Where's my daughter . . . . "

…..

I feel like I'm fighting my way through a churning wall of cold dark water, it's trying to suck me down and I'm trying to swim, but I don't know which way is up and I can't seem to move properly. I'd call out for help but I'm frightened of swallowing the water, drowning . . . .

Warm hands are holding me again, wrapped gently around each arm, not pulling me out, but not letting me go either . . . .

My head feels thick and all I want to do is drift back down into the welcoming dark but I can't I have to know about Freya, I have to fight this and wake up. Drugs, I recognise the feel of the chemical blanket after all these years. What were they thinking? I'll set Dan on them, how dare they knock me out instead of just answering my questions . . . .

"She's frowning." Jake's voice observes quietly.

Whoever is holding my other arm doesn't comment but I feel their forehead flop down on it and dampness flow over it.

With a super human effort, ha ha, I force my eyes open. It hurts, like they've been glued shut and I want to rub them but I can't. The light hurts too . . . . burns into my retinas.

The ceiling is dreary and stained. Nice. You'd think with the health plan I'm forking out for they'd at least clean and decorate every once in a while . . . .

"Bella?"

My head turns toward the sound of Jake's voice but before I can react or meet his eyes the forehead pops off my other arm and Dan moans in pain.

"Dan?" I rasp. "Where's Freya?"

He shakes his head and I take in his ragged appearance, unkempt hair, deathly pale skin, raw, red rimmed eyes . . . .

And my heart flies into my throat, cutting off my oxygen and the warmth in every one of my cells as his forehead bangs back down onto my arm and his grip tightens on it almost painfully.

No.

"Jake?" My head seems to flop in his direction of its own accord.

"Do you remember what happened?" He whispers.

"Yes. All of it." I grind out, ready to freak again. "Where is she Jake?"

"She's gone."

Dan sobs and adjusts his grip to genuinely painful. Stupid jock.

"Gone?" I whisper back. "With the Cullens?"

"No Bella." He responds, barely audible. "Gone."

The freak out is moments away, I can feel it. But nevertheless I force my head gently back onto the pillow and close my eyes again.

Oh shit. This really _is_ insane. Are we keeping secrets from Dan? Or . . . .

"I need to know." I whisper to myself as much as anyone else.

"They . . . . they couldn't save her Bells." Dan sobs. "They . . . . tried . . . . for what seemed like forever . . . . but . . . . there was noth-noth-nothing . . . . they could do . . . . it . . . . it was . . . . argh . . . . ungh . . . . oh Bells . . . . our baby . . . . she's gone . . . ."

I can feel it building. The freak out. Because what he's telling me can't possibly be true. He's missing the point. Failing to see, to understand, to accept . . . .

Bleeping. Running feet. Garbled words . . . . hands on me . . . . resistance is futile . . . .

…..

Waking up is even harder this time.

All I can do is listen while I hover between light and dark.

Doctor Cullen is rostered off at the moment, they've tried to contact him since he seems to know me and my history but haven't been successful.

They're worried about how I will deal with the news of Freya's death. Well duh, badly people . . . . unless you have a different definition of dead . . . .

Otherwise I'm as fit as a fiddle. Mild concussion, lunatic level reaction to being awake, currently being avoided by keeping me sedated for my own safety, sanity, whatever . . . . Jesus, if these people could hear themselves in any other context . . . .

I have focus.

Focus.

And I need to wake the fuck up.

From this stupor, from this nightmare, from this everything . . . .

"Bella?"

"Jake?" God my voice is thick, barely understandable.

"Babe, keep calm, breathe deep . . . ."

Big warm hands squeezing one of my tiny ones.

"Okay. Okay."

"You don't need to worry Bella. Everything's fine."

"No . . . ."

"Yes." The timbre of his low pitched voice makes me shudder. "Trust me."

"I need to see her . . . ."

"Mister Black. If we may . . . ."

Blasted Nurse. I can feel my own pulse spiking, you don't need to feel my fucking wrist . . . .

"I'm fine . . . ."

"Of course you are dear."

Dear? What the . . . .

Okay. Alright. Calm. Completely reasonable. I'm not deaf you know. I know you're terrified to tell me my daughter's dead.

Jake squeezes my hand and I submit to the medical once over.

Except it's not once. Two Nurses, _three_ Doctors and five hours. They really _are_ afraid of being sued . . . .

No medication for a change but a big ass bandage, a plethora of counselling options and mealy mouthed words . . . .

Finally, somehow, we're out the door and into the blazing, its relative and December, sunshine.

"They all think she's dead." I observe as I screw my eyes up against the glare.

"She is dead." Jake responds softly.

I stop in my tracks, bending in half, lanced through with a pain that isn't entirely unfamiliar.

"Bella, babe, love, I'm sorry, thoughtless choice of words. She's as well as can be expected, under the circumstances. Come on, this isn't the place, let's get you in the truck and home . . . ."

Patiently he unbends me from my rictus and guides me to his truck.

This, the way I'm starting to feel now, is also not entirely unfamiliar. Disconnected, cold . . . .

…..

A house full.

Jake smiles regretfully but isn't able to do anything about it as he ushers me inside.

Cath hugs me and cries all over me. Then Bren. Then Mike's Mom.

Which is when my shivering finally becomes uncontrollable and someone packs me off to bed.

I'm grasping at straws here.

I know what's possible. I know all the pieces were in place. I know what I wanted. I remember my conversation with Jake. Carlisle's eyes . . . .

I know the only reality I can cope with.

And I dial Carlisle's number over and over again until I fall into a fitful sleep . . . .

Unobtainable.

…..

Freya's body was 'accidentally' cremated. It's laughable really. Or not. Either this is a series of tragedies from which I'll never recover or the well thought out actions of immortal saviours.

Jake says she 'died' and they took her to the morgue. He says Rosalie and Carlisle 'rescued' her and spirited her away into the night. He helped and he's convinced she was alive when they left.

Dan and the hospital say she died of her injuries and was then the victim of incorrectly written records and single point stupidity. Being cremated in the place of some elderly lady who expired of old age.

Bullshit.

At least it had better be bullshit.

…..

Limbo.

It's not that I don't trust Jake, or his version of events. Hell, it's not even like I don't want to.

But everyone else is so _sure_ . . . . so _sorry_ . . . . so _sad_ . . . .

…..

I asked him, Jake, if Carlisle had said anything about contacting me. He said there wasn't time for words.

I asked, I begged, selfishly, for him to look for them.

He did, but he couldn't find them.

They're gone.

Again.

…..

Renee came.

Déjà vu.

Charlie came.

…..

There was a funeral. The sadness was palpable, you could taste in the air like a noxious cloud.

I allowed myself to withdraw from the wake, disconnect.

No one pursued me up to my room, not even my parents, or Jake.

Bella Zombie is perfectly acceptable when you've outlived your only child, apparently . . . .

…..

Either my daughter is dead. Which is a cosmic tragedy, that God, or whoever, needs to address.

Or she's gone. Taken away to a new life and new experiences that I'm never going to be part of. Well and truly flown the nest.

I choose.

I choose to believe that Freya is alive and with the Cullens.

I believe that she will be strong and happy, that she'll come to love her new family just as much as they'll come to love her. That she'll learn to revel in her new life and won't ever be sorry that she has it. And, stupid romantic fiction, that she'll find someone special that will be able to share it with her. Forever.

…..

I said good bye to Charlie.

Then to Renee and Phil.

I spent some time curled up in either Dan or Jake's laps, selfishly trying to draw their warmth and comfort into my cold body.

I let Bren and Cath bully me into showering and eating.

And then, on Monday, I let them all go back to their lives without me.

…..

I heard what they said about mine.

Young enough to start again.

I managed it once, for Freya.

I can't see it happening again.

…..

Nevertheless, I get up the following Monday morning, make waffles no one will eat, make up both eyes, and drive to work.

Because that's what animated corpses, zombies, do.

They go through the motions, try to carry on with their former lives, unable to fully process that they're over . . . .


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 23 Caribou & Cullens **

**FPOV**

It burns, oh Jesus Christ, it fucking _burns_.

It's a nightmare. It has to be.

There were voices, voices I thought I recognised, but they burned away in the fire . . . . leaving me to my blazing agony.

And it is. _Agony_.

Maybe the voices are still there, I can't tell, the pain and the roaring of the flames in my ears are steadily obliterating everything. My hazy memories, my dreams, me . . . .

I'm not all burned up . . . . how can I not be all burned up? Surely I have to be totally consumed by the flames at some point?

Dear god is this what everyone feels like as they burn to death . . . . does it last forever . . . .

Maybe it does? Maybe because it's your last ever memory? That's nasty . . . . who designed the human body to work that way . . . . I wanna word with him because he's seriously fucked in the head . . . .

No, no, no, no, no . . . . make it stop . . . . oh god _please_ . . . . make it stop . . . . I'm sorry . . . . whatever I did I'm so sorry . . . . Mommy . . . . Daddy . . . .

Moving . . . . I feel I'm moving . . . . all of me . . . . but there isn't an all of me anymore . . . . . just ashes and this horrific awareness . . . .

Faces dance before my eyes . . . . who are these people . . . . do I know them . . . . why aren't they helping me . . . . what did I do . . . . what did I do . . . . why am I being punished . . . .

More . . . . I can't take any more . . . . I'm screaming . . . . I know I am . . . . why can't I hear it . . . . why can't I hear it . . . . what's the point . . . .

I can feel it coming . . . . separation . . . . disconnect . . . . my soul straining to break free . . . . clear the agony . . . . leave it behind to consume my ghost body . . . . I want it . . . . I can't take anymore . . . .

Help me . . . . somebody help me . . . .

Ssssnnnnaaaapppp . . . .

…..

Silence.

Emptiness.

Floating.

…..

Scratching?

Like fingernails on a chalk board.

Jesus. My hands fly up to cover my ears. It's so fucking loud it ought to hurt.

There's nothing assaulting my eardrums, my hands confirm it, but I can still hear the scratching . . . .

In panic I hitch in a breath and open my eyes.

Epic. Mistake.

My body is moving before my mind can process all the alarming shit it's been presented with . . . . punching . . . . kicking . . . . screaming . . . .

Hands? Hands hold me down.

Voices? Some familiar, talk to me . . . .

I understand the words but can't focus on their meaning . . . .

Terrified . . . . burning . . . . breaking . . . . tearing . . . . biting . . . . screaming . . . . hunting . . . . catching . . . . ripping . . . . drinking . . . . hunting . . . . ripping . . . . gorging . . . . fighting . . . . burning . . . .

Threatened.

Three males . . . . fighting . . . . captured . . . . held . . . . no, no, no, no, no . . . . screaming . . . . . screaming . . . . fighting . . . .

"Freya . . . . Freya . . . . Freya . . . . Freya . . . ."

Ungh! Makes no sense . . . . not in any voice . . . . I am Freya . . . . but how do they . . . . no, no, no, no, no . . . .

Bang!

My head pings off something hard and I open my mouth to scream into the face of the male that's covering my body with his own . . . .

A hand clamps my snapping jaws shut and another body lands across my flailing legs.

"Jesus Jazz." A deep voice huffs in annoyance. "Make with the calm happy mojo already."

"I'm trying." Is the laconic response.

"She's a shield." Another voice observes.

"Ah. Sweet." The deep voice rumbles. "She takes after her Momma."

"Bella couldn't blo . . . ."

"NO!" I roar, surging to my feet and shaking the bodies from me . . . . lashing out . . . . running . . . . being tackled from behind . . . . crashing back to the hard ground . . . . trying again . . . . truly immobilised this time . . . . my face pushed into the compacted snow . . . . I won't be able to breathe . . . . heavy thuds as more weight lands on top of me . . . . laughter . . . . I can't breathe . . . .

Beyond terrified, and apparently reason, I open my mouth and scream and scream and scream and scream . . . .

Snow fills my mouth, my nose, my eyes . . . .

And it's . . . . unpleasant.

And unnaturally warm, or rather, not cold.

Unable to move much more than my head I let my body go slack while I consider the implication that I _failed_ to burn to death and am now _not_ suffocating in a snow drift.

"Thank _fuck_." Someone sighs in relief.

"Freya. You know what you are, who we are, what's happening here. Think . . . . _remember_."

And a glimmer of understanding comes to me.

I know these people.

But I don't know if I'm supposed to trust them.

Another sigh and the bodies above me shift slightly.

"Freya, we're going to let you up, okay?"

"Mu-whmpf . . . ."

The last weight rolls away from me.

I draw myself up onto my hands and knees, shaking my head like a dog to clear it of the snow which has done nothing to cool the pain in my throat, rising onto my fingertips and toes and taking in the detail of the distant horizon I shouldn't be able to see . . . .

And then I'm away, athletics, four hundred metre champion, fastest out of the blocks, two years running . . . .

"Oh, for the love of . . . ." Someone growls in frustration as three pairs of feet set off in pursuit.

The speed and power of it is _amazing_ . . . . momentarily distracting me from everything else . . . . and then the fear takes over again . . . . and the thirst . . . . I veer right . . . . called by a tantalising scent . . . . snarling in warning as they shadow me . . . .

Memories, disturbingly vivid ones, are trying to push their way to the front of my mind but I can't focus on them . . . . I'm too thirsty . . . . I'm moving so fast I barely manage to grab the wolf's tail as I sail past it, inadvertently spinning it around and smashing its body against a tree trunk as I crash to a stop . . . . groaning in relief I bury my teeth in its neck . . . .

"It's easier to drink if you don't squash it first." A voice drawls.

Still sucking desperately I look up, glowering across the clearing at Jasper Cullen as he leans nonchalantly against a tree.

He's right . . . . I can smell the blood in the body but it's like trying to suck water out of a washcloth . . . .

Frustrated I shove the wolf away and surge to my feet as Doctor Cullen and the big one slow to a stop beside him.

We regard each other in tense silence.

"If you're still thirsty hunt again." Jasper instructs me. "It helps with your focus."

Doctor Cullen nods encouragingly and the big one breaks into an enormous grin.

I can tell I'm frowning . . . . I feel . . . . _stupid_ . . . . like my understanding of what's going on in this random and bizarre dream is hovering somewhere out of reach . . . . possibly poking its tongue out at me like a two year old . . . .

Frowning quickly turns to frustration and frustration quickly to anger and before I know it I'm running again, revelling in the feel of it, letting the thrill of it chase everything else away . . . .

…..

Finally replete I flop back into a bank of snow, aware of the others lingering at the tree line but no longer so unsettled by their presence.

I know what I am, well I guess it's pretty obvious really, but I don't know how I know. The absence of stupid still doesn't seem to be within my grasp. And I wouldn't exactly describe myself as focussed even though I'm not so out of control thirsty. Or particularly calm for that matter. I'm just, just . . . .

I'm pretty sure this isn't a dream either, despite the explanation less presence of the sexiest boy in school, his ginormous brother, and their father. Or my ability to run like the wind, kick over trees, smell grass under four feet of snow, hear bugs scurrying around under rocks and snap the necks of really big caribou.

Yep, I know what a caribou looks like, straight A student, I just didn't know how _big_ they were.

I'm wearing jeans that are a little too short for me and a sweatshirt I wouldn't be seen dead in, dream or not. So, yeah, not dreaming.

So, I'm a vampire then, question is, how?

I guess I'd better ask the Cullens. They don't seem surprised by any of this and I don't feel threatened by them anymore. And, they seem to be my only choice . . . .

Getting to my feet, god this speed and ease of movement is awesome, I don't even feel tired and I've been running and fighting for hours, I wonder how long I could go for, how fast . . . . oh right . . . . questions . . . .

Slowly, which requires concentration and more frowning, I make my way down the slope toward them, fruitlessly trying to clean my bloody hands on my jeans and remembering, with unnerving clarity, the events of the last couple of hours. Weird, they didn't register at the time, but I can recall them like I was paying the utmost attention, wouldn't that be a neat trick in class . . . . right . . . . questions.

They might not want to answer my questions, I wouldn't wanna be particularly helpful to someone who'd kicked me in the head, screamed obscenities in my face and taken a chunk out of my shoulder with their teeth . . . . I'd be more inclined to rip their head off . . . .

I slow down even more, god this feels like slow mo . . . . they're smiling at me . . . . that's got to be a good sign right?

Ten feet away I grind to a halt and examine my feet, not my trainers, god I must be blushing like a Chinese lantern . . . .

Alright Monroe, out with it.

My head inches up and I find them all watching me with encouraging smiles.

"Er, um, Hi."

My hand immediately clamps over my mouth. Not my voice. I sound like Liv Tyler in freaking Lord of the Rings . . . .

The big one, Emmett I realise, snorts in amusement. Doctor Cullen smiles in understanding and Jasper is back to being serious and intent, just the way I remember him from school.

"How are you feeling?" Doctor Cullen asks.

"Different." I admit, wondering if I've grown pointy ears to go with the voice.

"Are you thirsty?"

"Um, yes?" I think so, just not as bad as it was before.

"You can hunt again if you need to."

"No thanks, I'm, um, good." I think.

"Newborns are always thirsty when they wake from their change, it's a perfectly natural reaction, nothing to be ashamed of."

Okay Doc, if you say so.

"I suggest you hunt whenever you feel the urge, it really does help with the focus and one of us will always be willing to accompany you."

He must have seen the question forming on my face because he smiles again, gently, like you would at an idiot, or Mike Smalley.

"I am assuming that you don't wish to kill humans?"

Ew, no, why would I want to do that?

"She doesn't understand Carlisle." Jasper drawls.

"Of course. Freya?" Doctor Cullen extends his hand to me and instinctively I take a step back. "Would you like to come back to the house with us, there is a lot I need to explain."

I look around but there's a whole lot of naff all else going on out here. And where is here? The caribou and snow would suggest Alaska but I can't even begin to guess how I, we, ended up here . . . .

"Perhaps you'd like a shower, and a change of clothes?" Doctor Cullen asks, still proffering his hand.

I glance down at myself. Yeah, probably wouldn't be a bad idea, but then again I don't really know these people all that well . . . . Monroe, I direct your attention back to the fact that you're in the middle of nowhere and choices _are_ limited . . . .

"Okay." I concede quietly.

This is probably some terrible mistake but I kind of know them and I kind of definitely don't want to be on my own right now.


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 24 Loss Adjustment**

**FPOV**

The house has an enormous illuminated hole in the side of it, which I suddenly vividly recall making.

Silhouetted in the light is a tall curvaceous woman, the light refracting on her long blonde hair.

"That's my Rosalie." Emmett informs me proudly.

"I told you not to hold her down." The Rosalie blonde observes with a sneer in her voice. "But oh no, everyone knows better than Rose."

"I'm sorry." My Liv Tyler voice squeaks out.

"Not your fault." Rosalie huffs. "And not the first time."

"Nope." Emmett chuckles, popping the 'p' and patting his slab like chest. "Whole house came down when I woke up. Dragged it halfway across the state before they caught me."

"You dragged it about nine hundred yards, ape." Rosalie drawls. "And we caught you because you got your legs tangled in the foundations and fell over a cliff with it."

"Good times." He laughs, surging ahead of us and crushing the protesting woman in a bear hug.

"Rosalie is Emmett's wife." Doctor Cullen explains as we follow at a more sedate pace. "She refused to go back to High School this time and as she is a fully qualified medical doctor, chose to work with me at the hospital instead."

I nod, because pretending to know what he's talking about seems like a good idea.

Jasper hops through the gaping hole and with one last glance back at the scene of devastation I allow Doctor Cullen to lead me round to the front of the building.

"Welcome." He says politely, gesturing to the open double doors that are streaming warm light onto the neatly raked gravel driveway.

Surreal, is a good word, I think.

…..

Taking a shower turned out to be the gentle edge of what has become a steep learning curve.

Vampire speed and strength are amazing and I use them at every available opportunity but there are times, the most mundane of times, when they're a complete pain in the ass.

It didn't take me long to work out why someone had removed the glass shower door and leant it against the far wall, sticking a post it note on it in the process. 'Do not touch.' The shower knob came off in my hand, dented but not so badly I couldn't screw it back on, though it took ten minutes. The shampoo whooshed out of the bottle with one squeeze and I had to skim some off the tiles, like spackle. Clean I plucked a towel off the rack, flinching as it snapped back and took out the entire light fitting. Fortunately I didn't seem to need the light to see. Vigorously towelling off I cracked two tiles with my elbow and when I opened the bathroom door I realised the other reason the glass door was off, as it crashed into the shower and then pinged back to hit me on the ass, splintering in the process.

Someone had laid fresh clothes out on the bed and I was touched that they'd left a dozen outfits for me to choose from.

Seven shredded piles of clothes and one hour twenty seven minutes later I carefully opened the bedroom door and made my way downstairs to see what awaited me.

…..

It's infuriating how I know some of this stuff already but can't recall why.

Though I remember, flawlessly, everything Carlisle and Emmett said some bits of it are more on my mind than others. It's difficult to explain how I can be recalling and thinking about all of it at the same time but choose which bits I want to focus on, and once again I can't wait to try it out at school.

Rosalie and Jasper didn't say much but when they did I found their words resonated with me. Carlisle was the cold hard facts, Emmett the lighter side, but the two of them, they were kind of the Yodas of the piece.

Be patient and when they come, the human memories, hold onto them and preserve them. It's so frustrating, I could describe in great detail the culinary horrors of French Week in the cafeteria, but I can't recall my home, or which of the faces I remember being in the cafeteria with were my friends. I can't remember my Mom, just a blurry face with soft brown eyes. I don't remember Jake, or him turning into a wolf, which is a shame because it must have been all kinds of awesome to see. My only memory of Gramps is him showing me how to bait a hook which feels like it was a long time ago. Likewise Renee, I can picture her husband better, I was in awe of the ex-ball player. I remember how I felt about my car but I can't picture it in my mind, could have been a Bentley for all I know.

I don't remember the party they say I went to, the fight, saving someone's life or falling in front of a car.

I don't recall anything of 'dying' in the hospital or being carried away into the night.

Yet the intense satisfaction of pulling out a large clump of cheerleader hair is still bringing a smile to my face.

I sigh and shift on my rock, might as well be a bed, feels perfectly comfortable to the new improved me.

Rosalie told me not to try and force the memories, what's still there will come when my mind's good and ready and all the important bits, the people I love, they won't be lost. I'm trying to trust that but it's scary, I can still feel how much I loved my family, what if I never remember them?

Of course I wanted to know when I was going to see them again, store them away forever in my new infallible memory.

I blow out a breath and roll over onto my front.

Nothing about that thread is making me happy right now.

I will _not_ eat my parents but the four of them were so certain they even made me doubt it. The way I felt, when I first woke up? Humans, their blood, provoke a reaction a million times stronger they insisted. Even the thought of _that_ still makes me shudder. And to illustrate the point Jasper described, in great detail, the night he nearly chowed down on my Mom. The story was familiar but the level of detail he went into about how he felt would have churned my stomach if I were still human.

A year, it will be at least a year before I'm trustworthy enough around humans to visit a mid-size town, let alone hug a relative.

A part of me thinks that's bullshit, but not a big enough part to put it to the test just yet. They were all so _certain_.

Besides, what am I gonna do, waltz into a house I can't remember and tell everyone I'm home?

I'll probably give 'em all heart attacks considering I'm supposed to be dead. I'd protested long and loud about that, who wouldn't? It's not like people don't already know. Rosalie was particularly scathing about that, even the so far unflappable Carlisle was visibly flinching. Scathing but right, unfortunately. They really do believe I'm dead and all the stuff that happened, that I can't remember, will all be forgotten in time, though not if my undead self goes waltzing back into town with red eyes and a bad case of the munchies.

I might only be eighteen but even I can see that ain't gonna look good on the evening news. Not when you factor in the Volturi. Vampire royalty, human drinkers and all round assholes by the sound of it. The biggest bullies in town. Even I had to ask Carlisle what he thought he was doing telling a bunch of humans that vampires were real, after hearing the stories about what they did to those who just _threatened_ to reveal the secret. He didn't answer, just muttered something about someone called Bella and spent ten minutes inspecting his hands rather than look up for Rosalie's educational tirade.

Emmett was more pragmatic, explaining how we never age, how the people we loved do, grow old, get sick, die. Against the advice of the other Cullens he kept tabs in his own family, watching from a distance as the people he loved died off and new McCartys took their place. Surprising eloquent for such a natural clown that was the part of the night when I found out I couldn't cry anymore. And witnessed first-hand how much the 'uber bitch' that is Rosalie Cullen loves her husband.

Argh. This shit is like chemistry, impossible to understand and vital to making your grades.

A thought that's been worrying at me for a while muscles to the front of the queue, that and the suddenly unavoidable burning in my throat.

"I need to hunt." I announce, knowing that Jasper, lurking around somewhere out of sight can hear me.

"Have at it." He replies. "There aren't any humans around for miles but I'll be right behind you."

Yeah. Turns out the silent, brooding, sexy, boy from school is the vampire equivalent of the A-Team. Got a feisty newborn? No one else can help? Maybe you should hire . . . .

I break into a run, hearing and scenting him following after me.

I didn't realise, when I categorically stated that I didn't want to kill a human, that they'd sic the world's most fun free babysitter on me, Vin Diesel he ain't . . . .

…..

If you want fun, you want Emmett.

He's the one who's prepared to spend hour after hour indulging my new found abilities and desire to put them to the test. We've dug tunnels, flung ourselves off rocky escarpments, wrestled bears, jumped massive ravines, thrown trees at each other and generally laughed our stupid heads off. He's also the one who helped me repair the hole I'd made in the side of the house, since he has _experience_ in that area.

If you want quiet but thirst for knowledge, you want Rosalie, Rose, she'll teach you anything, make up, hair, how to rebuild classic cars, win at Poker, if you keep your trap shut and listen.

If you want to feel secure you want Carlisle, he exudes calm care like a pheromone or something. And, unlike Rose, you can ask him questions without getting the bitch brow.

But if you want to learn about being a vampire, without sugar coating, you want Jasper, Jazz.

So when I was ready I deliberated who to ask about my randomly emerging memories, the gaps, and what they meant.

Carlisle? He seemed the easiest choice but some _instinct_ has stopped me from forming the words every time I've had the chance.

Rose? No way. I like her but she's kind of 'fixed' in her opinions and even if she deemed to answer me it isn't necessarily her version of the 'truth' I'm after. I want to form my own conclusions, right or wrong. On that basis you'd think that Jazz would be the obvious choice, what with him being about as dispassionate as you can get without _actually_ being an inanimate object. Problem is he's about as approachable as my former Principle, as in, not remotely.

Which leaves me with Emmett, Em, or Unky Em as he keeps insisting I call him. And I think he's probably my best choice, he might act like a dumbass, but as Rose says, he has hidden depths.

…..

The house is empty. Carlisle and Jazz are hunting and Rose has returned to civilisation for a couple of days, for her sanity, our entertainment needs, and more clothes for the newborn.

I know Em's around somewhere but since I've just hunted, full to the point of being sloshy and about as 'relaxed' as I can get these days, he's giving me a bit of space. I try for a soak in the tub but it's too little activity, within minutes my knee is bouncing and my mind is pinging around like a squash ball. Argh! I miss being able to laze around in my room with nothing of importance on my mind. I used wile away hours like that but I can't see it happening again. I seriously need to get a hobby . . . .

"Goddess!" Em's booming voice makes the walls shake and the water in the tub ripple.

"What?" I yell back. "I'm in the bath."

"I'm going on the internet . . . ."

I'm out and towelling off immediately. For obvious reasons I'm not currently allowed unsupervised access to the internet, there are things I probably shouldn't see and things I very definitely shouldn't do. I'm not bitching about the rule because I don't trust myself, I have vivid daydreams about going on Facebook and . . . .

"There you are." Em chuckles as I skid to a stop behind him, more than ready to be entertained. He's got a whole other persona going on in cyber space, several of them in fact.

…..

My craving for the outside world temporarily assuaged we retire to the living room to see if we can get me through an entire movie, a goal I've been working toward for _weeks_.

I almost made it, and I really, really wanted to know how it ended, but I just couldn't sit still any longer and once I started pacing I knew it was only a matter of time.

"How about a race?" Em suggests.

I raise an eyebrow at him. Even without my current advantage his ginormous frame is never going to be a match for me in the speed stakes.

"Pft." He snorts. "Like I'm gonna suggest a race _you_ could win."

…..

Five hours later I crawl out of the caverns that riddle the area to find Em squatting on a rock like an evil Buddha.

"It's a good job I'm not afraid of the dark or confined spaces." I grumble as I flop down beside him. No cheating was allowed, we had to find a way through without making one of our own, good job I'm bendy.

"I told you to trust your instincts." He observes, struggling to keep the laughter out of his voice. "Your sense of direction is infallible, you just had to use it."

I can't be bothered answer. I actually feel tired, not my body, that damn thing could do the whole ordeal again and then some, but my mind. Maybe tired isn't the right word, but then relaxed isn't either, just pleasantly quiet. It obviously needs a good work out every once in a while, who knew . . . .

"How long have you been here?"

"Two hours."

"Pft." I've a weird certainty that he's not been here that long but I dismiss it, I'm never going to be as competitive as he is, in favour of the other weird certainty that now is the time.

"Em?"

"Yes my little caving Goddess?"

"Where's Esme?"


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 25 Jackanory**

**FPOV**

"That's an odd question." He hedges.

I shrug, not from where I'm sitting.

"How much do you know?" He asks eventually.

"I don't remember everything." I answer quietly, the understatement of the century. "But I've got this story floating around in my head. I think my Mom might have told me it."

"About us?"

I nod, worrying my lip. And about her.

"And some of the characters are missing?"

I nod again. Esme, Alice, Edward. Mom.

"Carlisle said she'd told you everything."

All I can do is shrug. She may very well have done. But it's not the telling I remember. It's the story.

"You remember Edward?"

The beautiful boy in the year below me at school? Yes. And the haunted wreck I can dimly recall staring hopelessly at my Mom across a crowded room? Also yes.

"We'd given up hoping he'd ever find a woman of his own, the eternal bachelor and spare prick at the wedding . . . . But then he met your Mom.

She was fucking . . . . sorry Freya . . . . awesome your Mom. The strongest person I ever met. And she loved us. She didn't care what we were, she just saw us for _who_ we were.

Even me."

He stops for a moment, possibly having the same ghost chest pains I'm having.

"He didn't so much fall in love with her as plummet head first. It was kinda funny in a way . . . .

And she loved him. You didn't have to be an empath like Jazz to feel that. It was written all over her face. She's kind of an open book, your Mom."

I can't remember, I want to remember . . . .

"But Edward? Well, he has an over developed sense of right and wrong and very little by way of protective coloration. He loved her so much he didn't want to condemn her to the way we live. Moving on every couple of years, hiding, thirsty, monstrous, leaving every one you love behind.

He wanted her to be better than that. Happy. He wanted a you, for her."

My throat is congested all of a sudden, nagging flames doused by rocks.

"Did she tell you she tried to sacrifice her life to save ours? Renee's? His?"

I shake my head. I know about James, that Edward saved her . . . .

"I could never have been that strong. I'd have been relieved that someone else had changed her for me. But Edward. Despite her blood being like heroin to him he sucked James's venom out of her and saved her life.

He nearly left then. It was fucking . . . . sorry . . . . close. But he loved her so much . . . .

It was poor old Jazz that put the final nail in the coffin. At her birthday party. Though in fairness to the dude we were forming an orderly queue . . . .

Sorry, you've probably heard enough about that already . . . ."

No its fine. I can cope with hearing how you all wanted to kill a Mom I can scarcely remember . . . .

"He made us leave, he was a bit of a cu . . . . um . . . . git about it to be honest."

He rubs his bicep and I wonder . . . .

"We were all gutted but Alice and Esme the most.

Esme had already decided that your Mom was the daughter she needed to complete her family, and Alice, well, she couldn't remember her human life and your Mom was the little sister that completed _her_ . . . .

I had little sisters of my own, as you know, and your Mom, she was the best that I remembered of all of them.

I would have slayed dragons for her.

Still would. I love her. And I miss her."

I swallow and the boulders in my throat are ground into sand. Opening the way for heat and thirst.

"Let me show you where the best meal is tonight." He offers and I nod.

…..

"He made us leave her and then he left us.

I guess he'd gotten past the point where he could cope with a house full of loving couples. We'd come here. As far away from everything as you can get. We have 'family' around here too but we haven't seen them for a while now . . . .

One of James's coven went there. Laurent. One of the family, the Denalis, got quite fond of him.

He left but none of us realised where he went until we found him in Seattle."

My face must be conveying my lack of understanding, this isn't in the story I've been remembering, and he allows himself a half smile.

"We explained about the Volturi?"

I nod.

"We'd been watching the news, tracking a really 'vicious' serial killer. There were definitely newborns in our territory. Seattle. We're the Olympic Coven. They were our problem, unless we were prepared to sit back and wait for them to be the Volturi's. Which we weren't, your Mom . . . . we would never risk them finding out about her.

There was a fight, we knew there would be."

He sighs and I wait.

"Did your Mom explain about Alice?"

I nod. She could see the future, I'd call crap but there's so much about my reality now that would get the same reaction.

"She saw that we'd win." He says in barely a whisper. "But we'll never know if she knew she'd die in the process. Esme, Mom, too . . . ."

Instinctively I crawl into his lap so we can hang onto each other.

This isn't my life, its Mom's. But not how it should have turned out.

"Esme sounds wonderful." I offer after a minute.

"She was." He sighs. "Carlisle says vampirism solidifies the gifts you were born with. Esme must have been the mother lode of Mom. She was fierce when she was protecting her cubs. That night, Goddess, she was in her element until they brought her down.

Alice too. The Jazzman taught her to fight, he was so afraid something bad would happen to her, she was a vicious little pixie witch in battle. But it all happened so fast . . . .

And ended so quickly.

Everything ended."

He's silent, rubbing my back.

"Rosie called Edward and he came home, finally.

Laurent was in Seattle with Victoria, James's mate. Edward thinks she was raising the newborns to get past the wolves and go after your Mom. A mate for a mate. His leaving hadn't made her safe at all. We were all pretty mad at him. Irina, she's the Denali who had the poor taste to fall for Laurent, she hasn't spoken to us since, she blames us for killing _her_ mate."

"Christ what a mess." I mumble into his shirt.

"Yeah." He sighs. "It gets worse. Do you know about Edward reading minds?"

I nod, not bothered about the implications of what he might have read in mine at school. So not important in the grand scheme of things.

"Carlisle and Jasper, well, no one ever talked about it but I can't imagine what he must have heard in their minds afterwards. He loved and respected Carlisle and I know Carlisle doesn't really blame him but it must have come up, you know, nobody's perfect especially not in their heads. And Jazz? Alice was his whole reason for existing, how he hasn't . . . ."

He trails off and I wonder if he's thinking what it would be like to lose his Rosalie. His muscles tense and then relax.

"Whatever happens I'll always be your Mom's big bother little Goddess, and your Unky Em. It'll be my pleasure and my duty to look after you for eternity."

"Em . . . ." I choke out.

"For my brother. My Mom, and my little sister. I swear to God nothing will ever hurt you."

…..

"Where is he Em?"

"He went to visit friends in Europe."

"Why?"

"It's polite?" He chuckles, raising an eyebrow at me.

"He finally found my Mom again, the alleged love of his life, and then went on vacation? Please . . . ."

His chuckle morphs into a belly laugh.

"We all thought, and Alice always said, that he wouldn't be able to stay away from your Mom forever. Jazz and I even had a book running on how long it would be before he came to his senses and went back for her. I had my money on when she started college, all those virile young men? I couldn't see Edward's imagination standing _that_ for more than one semester."

I giggle, that had been precisely what I'd been looking forward to about college . . . . well that and the whole learning thing, obviously . . . .

"But he didn't come back for her."

"No. He forbade any of us to look for her or interfere in her life. Even made Alice promise not to use her gift on her. Of course we ignored him. While he was away, before Seattle, we kept tabs on her. So we knew about you. Well, not you specifically, just that she'd had a daughter.

I think the little hypocrite had been watching out for her too because Alice said he wouldn't be going back for her any time soon, she had the full human life he'd always wanted for her."

I sigh and push myself off his lap, stretching out on the cold hard ground to stare up at the stars.

Complicated.

"Does he still love her?"

"Yeah."

"Then why isn't he here?"

"It's complicated."

"I think I can keep up."

"He was pissed that Carlisle had hidden your Mom from him. Really pissed."

"Because Carlisle broke his rules?" I ask, wondering why it would still matter after so long and when so much had changed.

"Kinda."

"Em." I growl, I'm really starting to love the growling thing, it has possibilities.

"Really? Goddess you strike me as being quite observant, why do you think he was pissed?"

I frown up at the night sky. His rules were broken? He could have seen Mom a whole lot quicker if he'd known they were in the same town? Hardly seems likely considering he's run away, again. Must be hard for him though, if he loves her. It's not like he'll ever forget her, or any even one tiny second of any time they spent together, the vampire brain would never allow it. Must sting like a bitch. Must have been hell to watch from a distance like that. To know she had Dad, Jake. Yeah, he was lucky she wasn't a serial dater and he wasn't around to read their minds . . . .

"Holy shit!" I scream as a new memory clicks into place. "I was right, well, part right . . . ."

He raises an eyebrow, waiting for me to enlighten him.

"Carlisle's got the hots for Mom!"

He laughs, nodding furiously and then sobers, looking guilty.

"What happened?" I ask in a small voice.

"There was a fight. They were really going at it. Jazz and I had to break them up. Twice. Some things were said that probably shouldn't have been and Edward left."

"But, why?"

"You have to remember that Edward, well, he's a good guy. The best. And he blames himself for everything that happened. For Carlisle, all of us, losing Esme. She was just as much a Mom to him as she was the rest of us. And Alice, she and he were like twins, it was freaky how well they fit together. And vampires, we don't change much, it usually takes some earth shattering event, so we don't get over things, the way humans do.

He doesn't believe that he deserves to be happy, that he was ever good enough for your Mom, thought that she'd see through him eventually and realise it for herself."

"I don't get it."

"I think, in Edward's world of honour and logic he's acknowledging his mistakes."

"I still don't get it." I admit.

"I said he was a good guy, not a genius." He chuckles sadly. "Way back in the day, before it all went wrong, Alice's visions of the future used to change all the time. How he resisted your Mom's blood I'll never know, but he did, over and over again. Though he was always literally shitting a brick that he'd slip up and bite her, or break her by just giving her a hug."

I shudder in understanding. I can crush a rock just be sitting on it too quick, just imagine trying not to break a human? How Carlisle and Rose can work as Doctors I can't even begin to imagine.

"In some versions of the future Alice saw your poor Mom did indeed end up dead. But in a lot of them she was one of us. A Cullen. Edward's wife."

The skin on the back of my neck prickles, I can almost see it, the way it was meant to be, even though I've no idea what Alice and Esme looked like.

"I think he was afraid to want that and now he believes that fear has ruined eternity for the rest of us, and her. Do you remember Charlie, your Grandpappy?"

"A little."

"He was at your house that night. Edward didn't say much about it but he would have read everyone's minds and I get the distinct impression that your Mom wasn't, um, very happy when he, we, left her."

I shrug. I still don't remember her properly, outside the story, but I don't think she was always as happy as she made out.

And then I start to fidget, cursing my inability to concentrate.

Em notices and his eyes warm in sympathy.

"Anyway." He says. "To cut a long story short. Edward thinks he's screwed everything up beyond all fixing with his decisions and actions and so he's bowing out, removing himself from the playing field."

"What playing field?"

"The one where Carlisle gets to romance your Mom."

"Ew!"

"Yeah." He chuckles. "That one's gonna take some getting used to."

"He wouldn't, would he?"

"I doubt it. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Edward learned a lot of his values from Carlisle. And the old man still loves Edward as a son, he's not gonna put the moves on his woman."

My throat is getting hotter and hotter. Nasty, dry, scratchy heat.

"Is that why, she, Mom, isn't here with us too?"

"Ah Goddess." He sighs, reaching down to ruffle my hair. "That really_ is_ complicated and something you're definitely gonna have to ask Doctor Dazzle about."

I can't keep still much longer, I really need to hunt . . . .

"Em?"

"Hmm?"

"I've got another question."

"Shoot."

"What happened to Christmas?"


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 26 But Me No Buts**

**FPOV **

Christmas arrived the next day in the form of Rose, barrelling down the drive in a monstrous great truck laden with packages. Clothes for me, magazines, books, board games, video games, DVDs, iPods, rifles, fishing poles and for some random reason, a dozen jars of chocolate spread.

I didn't ask about them and she didn't tell. Em was pleased though, so whatever.

Determined to try and recapture some teenage normalcy, I grabbed a stack of magazines and one of the iPods, and as soon as was polite I crept upstairs and shut myself in my room.

It was okay. There were several things missing. My laptop, constantly pinging to let me know there were new messages from my friends. Cheerios, I always had a stash in my room. And TV. Yep I used to be able to multi task doing nothing like a mo-fo.

It was the Mercedes ad in the magazine that did it. Mom had the exact same car, in the same color and I suddenly had the clearest picture of her sat in it, frowning at the dash while she tried to get the computer to do what she wanted, like start the engine or something.

It really hurts, stealing my unnecessary breath.

And a load more images come flying at me like dodge balls.

Emptying my chest until I'm gasping like a fish.

It's not everything. Not by a long shot and most of it 'feels' recent, but it's enough, more than enough.

Dad, Cath, the A Lots, Bren, Maisie, shit Maisie, we were gonna go to college together, had it all planned out . . . .

I knew, in my heart, that I'd left behind people I loved. That I was never going to see them again, but, I think, the finality of that's just hit home. Dad thinks I'm dead, his little Princess. And Mom, Jesus, she must be freaking the fuck out.

Except she'd know, wouldn't she?

I need to think. Why is it so fucking difficult to think? Carlisle says our brains are a thousand times more capable than a human's, unobstructed by the millions of redundant neurological processes the living mind is cluttered with. So why can't I fucking think?

"I need to hunt!" I yell, flipping off the bed and throwing myself head first through the open window.

I push myself as hard as I can until the scent of prey hits my nostrils . . . .

…..

"A little warning next time." Jazz huffs to let me know he's approaching.

"Sorry."

I finish burying my kill and turn to look at him, jaw falling open in surprise.

"What the _hell_ are you wearing?"

"You didn't exactly give me time to get dressed."

"So you came after me in a . . . . fl . . . . bathrobe?"

"It could have been worse." He observes, wheeling and stumping away.

"Does Em know?"

"Oh Goddess." A new voice interrupts. "He does now."

"Fantastic." Jazz mutters, continuing on his way.

"Hey Jazz, you been waxing those skinny little pins?"

"Fuck you Em."

There's a click and a bright flash illuminates the trees.

Jazz stops.

"He didn't?" He growls.

"Yeah." I snicker. "He did."

"Hey, now, Jazzman." Em laughs, holding his hands up and backing away. "Don't you be chasing after me in that unless you're wearing modesty preserving undergarments."

"Whoa!" I scream as Jazz hurdles over me with a venom curdling howl, closing my eyes, because, well, clearly there wasn't time for modesty, or anything to be modest about . . . .

When I open them again, he and a hysterically laughing Em are rolling around in the snow, knocking down trees like bowling pins.

And shit, did Jazz just laugh too?

"Fucker!" He grunts, punching Em once more for good measure before climbing to his feet and re-fastening his disturbingly fluffy robe.

He raises an eyebrow at me and I instantly wipe the smile off my face.

"_Screw you guys, I'm going home_."

And he stumps away again.

"Cartman? Really?" I ask, dumbfounded.

"I know." Em chuckles as he dusts himself off. "He's got the sucker nailed. And anyone else he turns his hand to, he'd make a fortune as an impersonator. You might wanna watch out for that as the years go by."

I shake my head to clear it.

"Anyway." Em says, dropping a meaty hand on my shoulder hard enough to make me stagger. "I didn't schlep all the way out here to wrestle confederate soldiers in drag. You took off pretty quick, what's up, this seasons fashions not flattering for the Amazonian Goddess?"

"I am not an Amazon." I object, feeling like I might have heard that joke a time to two before.

"Freya, babe, you ain't exactly short."

"I'm only six foot."

"Not any more you aren't."

"What?!"

"You have been enhanced my dear, I'd guess you at around six two now."

"_No_." I moan, sinking down into the snow. "It was bad enough getting dates before, how can I possibly be taller . . . ."

"There will be no dates." He intones as he plops down beside me. "At least not till you're an octogenarian."

I punch his arm. "You sound like my Dad."

"In loco parentis." He chuckles.

Oh. Stupid brain. That's what got me out here in the first place.

"Hey. What's up?" He asks as I droop beside him.

"Mom, Dad, everything."

"Ah."

He surges to his feet, dragging me with him like a discarded sweater.

"Come on. Let's go see Doctor Dazzle."

"But . . . ."

"No time like the present Goddess. You got questions and you got concerns, might as well get 'em attended to or they'll fester."

"But . . . ."

"And you'll be helping me too, Rose said I should give the old man some time and I have but I want to know what he's planning to do as much as you do."

"But. I'm kind of a guest here and it would be rude to . . . ." Start questioning the host and demanding he stump up your family?

"Goddess, you're a Cullen now and if you don't ask you don't get in this family. That's why you've got the smallest room by the way . . . ."

…..

Em bangs on Carlisle's study door hard enough to rattle it in the frame.

"Yes Emmett?" Carlisle asks, sounding amused.

Em opens the door with less force and tugs me into the room after him, where I promptly become fascinated with my feet.

"How can I help the pair of you?" Carlisle enquires.

Em pokes me in the back, none too gently and I reach back and slap him.

The rich warm sound of Carlisle's laughter finally gets me to look up.

"It's good to have some life back in the house." He says, smiling broadly.

"Um . . . ."

Em pokes me in the back again.

"Stop it!" I hiss. Hissing's really cool too.

"Stop what?" Rose drawls, skirting round us and throwing herself into a chair.

Great . . . .

"What's up?" Jazz, dressed, asks, shutting the door behind us and draping himself over the last free chair.

Oh Jesus, like I can . . . .

"I don't know." Carlisle observes. "No one's let poor Freya get a word in edgeways."

"Speak up Goddess." Em urges, folding himself down at Rose's feet. "Privacy is an illusion in this family and we're sorely lacking in entertainment out here in the boondocks."

I narrow my eyes at him. Who does he think he is throwing me to the wolves like this?

"Emmett." Carlisle warns without heat.

Fan-fugu-tastic. Now they're all looking at me.

Alright, I can do this, I'm just a poor little teenager who's been wrenched from the only life she knows and dropped into a new one, with Attention Deficit Disorder and Acid Reflux thrown in for good measure.

I must have nailed it because Carlisle gently urges me to say what's on my mind.

Okay Monroe, start somewhere and work up to it.

"Does my Dad know where I am?"

Carlisle sighs.

"No Freya. I told you, he has no idea, it's better that the thinks you are dead."

"Are you sure? I mean he knows what you are, what you can do, why wouldn't he have worked it out? He's not a fool . . . ."

"Freya." Carlisle begins. "Your Dad was never comfortable with what your Mother told him. That night, at the hospital, when she told him I could save you. He didn't believe it. He didn't want to believe it."

"But . . . . why?" If he loved me, why wouldn't he?

"He wanted to keep you. He wanted you to be the way you were. His soft, loving, growing, maturing daughter. His mind couldn't envisage an alternative to the Doctor's saving you."

"But . . . ."

"He loved you Freya." Rose informs me crisply. "When he thought you were dying he was begging the Doctors to save you. And when that wasn't working, after, he begged Carlisle."

"I'm sorry Freya. I had to tell him it was too late. To protect us. To protect you. To protect your Mother. And to protect him." Carlisle admits.

"You were technically dead anyway." Rose continues. "Carlisle and I have learnt a few things over the years. Your Dad had no idea who I was and the other Doctor that confirmed your time of death was human and had no idea period."

"He really thinks I'm dead?" I whisper.

"Yes." Rose answers. "He _saw_ you die."

Oh Dad . . . .

"I'm sorry Freya." Carlisle apologies again. "I know it seems harsh but it is better for all of us this way, the Volturi . . . ."

I hold my hand up, the rudest gesture known to mankind according to Mom, but I need a moment.

It's not like they didn't tell me everyone thinks I'm dead. But . . . . I just didn't think . . . . something, I think, I may have been accused of before . . . .

I want to turn and run, hunt and kill, but if I do that I won't get the rest of my answers and if I do that, then, I won't be me . . . .

It's really hard though . . . .

"After." I turn to Rose. "You said after."

"Bella wanted us to save you." She says. "She didn't want you to die. So when Carlisle told her we were running out of time she took a 'Swan' dive into all the medical equipment."

"What?"

"She pretended to faint." Carlisle explains. "Giving us time to do what we needed to do."

Wow. Go Mom . . . .

"I think it may have worked better than she planned though, because she cut her head open and knocked herself out."

"Typical Bella." Em snorts.

"It was pandemonium." Carlisle continues, shooting Em a glare. "But it certainly worked in our favour."

There's only one thing I can focus on out of all of that.

"So she knows where I am then, that I'm not dead?"

Deathly, pardon the pun, silence.

"Doesn't she?"

And suddenly, looking at them all, I have the weirdest feeling that she doesn't, not for sure . . . .

And then comes the anger, never far away these days . . . .

"She thinks I'm dead too?"

Silence.

"We don't know that." Carlisle murmurs.

"I'm sorry." I snarl. "But why don't we know that?"

"We can't risk . . . ." Jazz begins and I whirl on him, sense of self-preservation absent without leave.

"Risk what?" I demand.

"We can't risk anyone else finding out that you're not dead." He finishes dispassionately.

Now _he_ gets my narrowed eyes.

"She. Is. Not. _Anyone_."

"You need to calm down." He observes.

"Wait a minute." Em interjects. "What am I missing?"

"Jasper feels." Carlisle sighs. "That contacting Bella is dangerous. The others have heard the stories about us and if there is any chance of them believing that Freya has become a vampire and speaking about it . . . ."

"Hold on Doc." Em growls. "Rosie told me that Bells wanted to be changed too."

"Yes." Carlisle answers. "She did, but . . . ."

"But what?" I interrupt with terrifying calm.

"There is no way we could have protected our secret if Bella had disappeared at the same time as you."

Makes sense, makes sense, makes sense . . . .

"So she knows we're going back for her, right?"

"Which part of 'any contact with Bella is dangerous' didn't you understand?" Jazz drawls.

Oh, um, I don't know, the part where you fucking decided to abandon her again?

I know I used to lose my temper, I had kind of a reputation for it at school. But, oh baby, that was then . . . .

…..

Their voices are muffled by the snow drift I'm buried in but I can still hear them.

"Jesus Jazz." Em complains. "I thought you were the fucking . . . . sorry Freya . . . . newborn expert. Not to mention empath, could you have been any _less_ sensitive?"

"She's very mature for a newborn, and a human. I didn't think she needed or wanted to be treated like a child."

"She's _eighteen_ dickwad." Rose snarls. "And not much more than a month as a vampire. Get a clue or shut the fuck up."

Someone growls.

"You will not growl at my wife." Em states flatly.

"Freya?" Carlisle asks. "Can you listen?"

"Numph fug choice."

He chuckles and a hand plunges through the snow to cradle my shoulder.

"Jasper feels that contacting your Mother too soon is dangerous, for all of us. And I have to agree with him."

"Christ she's strong." Rose grumbles.

"I realise this is hard for you." Carlisle continues. "But I promise you it's a situation born of necessity. I am responsible for many lives, including your Mother's.

I ask that you trust me. I will never allow her to be left behind again if that isn't what she wants and I regret, more than you can ever know, the pain she may be experiencing now.

But she is strong, your Mother, I _know_. And, in a few months, when the time is right, I will go back for her. I promise. I will not make the same mistake again."

"Sh tinks m ded."

"I hope not. Jacob knows better, he would have told her."

"Whht ff didnnt?"

"You have to have faith Freya. And patience."

"Yeah." Em asserts. "Trust your Mom, she's the one with the backbone of steel."

"Prms b kay?"

"As much as it is within my power to do so. Someone I would trust with _my_ life is watching out for hers."


	28. Chapter 28

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 27 Jim**

**FPOV **

It's actually quite frightening how quickly a bunch of vampires can go through one truck load of entertainment.

I've never been into video games but not playing isn't an option with Em around. I'm better at the role playing ones, they give my super computer brain something to focus on. Em, Jazz, Rose and even Carlisle whup my ass at the others, mainly because I get too excited and something bad happens.

I'm learning more about the Cullens and the life they lead. I'm not convinced I'm cut out for an eternity of school, it always seemed like a means to an end to me and the idea of repeating it year in year out is kinda depressing. Now college, that I'd still like to try one day. And work, since I can have a go at pretty much anything I like. I don't have to worry about earning for the American Dream, I've got forever to get there. The Cullens are absolutely rolling in it. Cash I mean. Poor Alice was a whizz at the stock market apparently and if it was gonna be worth anything they had a shed load of shares in it. And Carlisle doesn't exactly make peanuts as a Doctor. Then, if you factor in Em and Jazz, the Cyber Crims, well the world's your oyster.

The Cyber Crims have started keeping tabs on Mom. I'm still not allowed to see anything but they are giving me the highlights. Her new contract at work has gone stellar and her company has won another award. That's so cool. I was the only one at school whose Mom owned their own company, never mind such a successful one and I was always proud of her, even though I pretended to be embarrassed by it most of the time. She was the coolest . . . .

And Dad. He's taken another major corporation to the cleaners apparently.

Everyone's warned me that it's a bad idea to do this forever, and I get that, I really do, but right now it's just what I need. To know that everyone's okay and perversely that life goes on without me.

…..

I've watched my first movie all the way through. I can go twenty four hours without hunting. Just. I haven't broken anything for weeks and the snow's melting. I can focus well enough to read a book, not that it takes long, and I can spar with Jazz without getting knocked on my ass every seven seconds. More like ten. I can sit for hours and listen to Carlisle tell stories about his life, which is fascinating, and I can sit for hours and wait for Jazz to tell me something about his, which is somewhat of a fruitless exercise.

And I try, really hard, to do all these things because one of Carlisle's concerns is having two newborns in the house. Only when I can control myself is he going to allow Mom to come here. And I'm okay with that, I want her to have the life that's owed to her, not fight with her own flesh and blood. I've the weirdest feeling . . . .

…..

"It's too soon." Jazz objects.

"No it isn't." Em protests. "She's got this. I know she does."

"No." Jazz growls.

"I'm not suggesting we take her into town, just nearer the humans."

I blow out a breath, used to, but not happy about, them talking about me like I'm not here.

"Are you kidding me?" Jazz growls. "How is she going to feel if it goes wrong, she doesn't want to kill humans."

"She won't. We won't let her. But she needs to find out what they smell like some time."

"It's too soon."

"Are you protecting her or holding her back?"

Jazz growls and stomps off into the trees.

"That went well." I offer miserably.

"Nah. It went fine. Give him some time to think about it. He'll come around."

"He hates me." I mumble.

"Something like that. Come on, let's go play with the wildlife . . . ."

…..

"You will do everything I say, when I say it."

"Yes Jazz." I answer dutifully.

"If you don't obey me I will dismember you."

You can try, jackass.

"Em, are you sure this is a good idea?"

Oh god, here we go again . . . .

"For the love of God Jazz." I snap. "We've been over this like a million times. We're just going within a couple of miles of the Ranger Station. I'm gonna smell something like manna from heaven and turn into a homicidal maniac. You and Em will beat the crap out of me and then we'll come home. Can we not just get it over with?"

"Yeah, Jazz, you're kinda turning into Edward . . . ."

After two minutes I decide to go pry them apart and we set off.

I've a weird certainty that this will be okay but despite that I can't ever remember being this nervous in my entire life. Not that I can remember a whole lot of _that_ at the moment . . . .

…..

My nose in overdrive.

Snow. Grass. Trees. Dirt. Jazz's cotton scent and Em's tobacco one. The denim of our jeans, the plastic in my trainers, the leather of Jazz's boots. The lingering scent of our home. Small animals, insects, prey . . . . caribou, deer, wolves . . . . bears.

Gas. Electricity smells? Food, I don't know what, but it's enough to make me gag . . . . nasty, greasy, sickly . . . .

And then . . . .

I stop dead, locking my muscles.

This isn't acid reflux, someone's poured gas down my throat and followed it down with lit a Zippo . . . .

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

My eyes go wide and fasten on Jazz's.

"Stop breathing." He orders.

Done and done.

I want to ask what the fuck that is, and how it can be so strong when it's so _old_ but even I know drawing breath so I can talk is a bad idea right now . . . .

Hands fasten gently round both my arms.

"That's human." Jazz says quietly. "Several days old and not at its most potent. Do you want it?"

I nod, keeping my eyes on his.

"It's male. Mid forties."

That makes a difference how exactly?

"You could follow him, hunt him, if you really wanted to."

I do, I really do, but I shake my head anyway.

He lets go of my arm.

What the fuck are you doing?

"What the fuck are you doing?" Em whispers.

"Letting her take responsibility for her own actions."

"Fuck!" Em huffs, also letting me go. "You've got this Goddess."

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

I take a step forward.

Then a step back.

Everybody's entitled to make mistakes, right?

I step forward again.

I could find him so easily. I know I could.

"He'll make the pain in your throat go away." Jazz observes. "For a while."

I reach up and rub it. The pain is kind of a constant now.

"Em and I, we've both killed a human or two in our time."

I want to ask what the hell they think they're trying to achieve here but I'm still not prepared to draw another breath. Even the scent in my nose already is enough to make venom pool in my mouth and I swallow it away with a grimace because it tastes _disgusting_.

"Are you ready?" Jazz asks.

Ready for what? My eyebrows shoot up as my eyes go wide and I back up a step or two. Is he seriously suggesting that I . . . . No, no, no . . . . No fucking way!

"To head back." He continues. "Sons of Anarchy starts in an hour, I thought you wanted to watch it."

Em starts howling with laughter, pointing at my face and holding his belly, even Jazz cracks a smile.

"Freya." Jazz drawls in his irritating way. "If you were going to go after him you'd have done it the second you got a whiff of his scent. But let's not push our luck, huh?"

I scowl at him in a way definitely intended to convey my intention to kick his ass as soon as I can breathe again and then I turn and run . . . .

…..

We built up on it over the next couple of weeks until I could stand on the rise outside, way outside, the nearest town and take one good deep breath. This apparently is Straight A student when it comes to newborns but since I've got nothing to measure it against I'm not exactly proud. And I can't get my head round how much the human scents call to me despite knowing that one little suck is all it takes to end someone's life.

When I'm not learning to control myself or being 'amused' by Em I'm spending most of my time daydreaming. Despite being technically dead I just feel paused, waiting for my life to re-start again in a different pattern. And waiting for the time I can talk to Mom.

I miss her so much it sometimes brings a lump to my throat, it doesn't last long because the flames burn it away. I'm always thirsty and I can only get by on once a day because I gorge myself until I feel like I'm about to spit the blood back up. Which has happened once, gross doesn't even _begin_ to describe it.

I want to talk to her. I want to be absolutely sure that she knows that I'm okay. That the Cullens are kind of cool. And that I get why she wanted them to save me and I'm not sorry they did. Well I am and I'm not. I miss Dad, and school, and Maisie and the A Lots, bless their snotty little faces, but this is way better than being dead.

And I hope.

I hope for many things, surprisingly enough not all of them selfish.

…..

"I'm going on the internet." Rose calls.

"Wait for me!" I yell back.

"As if." I hear her snort as I take the stairs in two flying leaps.

"Not in the house." Carlisle admonishes, on his way out with a plethora of fishing poles.

I never understood why Gramps fished, dull is not a dull enough word, so I really _can't_ understand why a vampire would.

I slow enough that I don't crash into Rose's chair, never a bad thing, and he shakes his head at me with an indulgent smile.

And I smile back. What can I say? You can't not like Doctor Dazzle.

"Fashion, celebrity gossip, movies or music?" Rose asks.

"Gossip."

We while away an hour or so innocuously enough and then she flips up her Facebook page.

"Great." I groan. "Torture the poor person going cold turkey."

"Pft." She dismisses. "If you can resist human blood you can resist this superficial crap."

She closes the browser again quickly. But not quickly enough.

We both go still.

"Shit." She breathes.

"Messages from Edward." I comment finally.

"Apparently so." She responds carefully, shutting down the computer but not turning round.

I've the weird certainty that it's him she's fervently hoping I'll ask about, he is her brother, and she knows my obsession with the 'love story' after all. And maybe I'll be able to. Later.

"Who is Garrett?" I ask instead.

"Just a friend."

"Who is he talking about?"

"I don't know?"

"Jesus Rose." I huff, offended.

"I'm an idiot." She sighs.

"Who is he talking about?" I ask again.

"Bella. Your Mom."

I swallow and start running through my whole 'I will not lose it' routine.

When I don't say anything she swings the chair round to face me.

"He's the vampire Carlisle has watching her." She explains, studying me carefully. "I'm sorry Freya, you weren't supposed to see any of that."

I snort but don't have the control to speak.

"We, you, _knew_, that she wasn't going to be happy . . . ."

I can almost see 'poor choice of words' scrolling through her mind as she frowns but it's already too late.

"His last message header was Suicide Watch!" I scream suddenly. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with that bit of information? File it for later consideration? She's my fucking Mother! What's wrong with you people?! What the fuck did she ever do to you except love you? Would you even have fucking told me?"

Panting heavily I back up a couple of steps, balling my fists, I know I've already lost it, yet it's different this time, like my new super mind is narrowing down to a fine point. A fine point that ends on the East Coast, arrow like in its clarity. It's planning Jim but not as we know it . . . .

Rose screams for her husband before I've even started turning but super mind and weird certainty know he's not gonna catch me in time, he's out playing with his bears. And he's _slow_.

I disdain the front doors and crash straight through the wall instead.


	29. Chapter 29

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 28 Fixing Things**

**FPOV **

The fine point of my super computer mind was no match for Jazz's sadly.

And my weird certainty missed him by a country mile.

Neither were my legs, propelled though they were by fear, fast enough to outrun him.

He caught me outside some piddly ass town that even my _raging_ thirst hadn't distracted me into.

And in the absence of snow he buried me in mud.

It wasn't exactly a happy reunion.

It took the others almost two hours to arrive and I could almost imagine the conversation they had about not bothering to rush on the way.

I can't exactly say I'd calmed down by that point. Just that Jazz had been honest, repeatedly, about the reality of the situation and the stupidity of little ole newborn me rushing off to try and fix it on my own without at least attempting to get my facts straight first. He also said a few blunt things about my lack of faith in my own Mother, who's been on this earth a lot longer than I have and, given the circumstances, done just fine thank you very much. The jury's out on whether he helped me get a grip or bored me into submission.

…..

"You ready to come out?" He drawls, shaking one of my exposed legs.

Yeah he buried me head first, he's not big on pandering to a person's dignity, especially not after they tried to rip his head off with their teeth.

I can't answer but it doesn't seem to matter, with some laughter on Em's part they pull me out by the ankles.

I hastily scrub the muck out of my eyes and glare up at them all mutinously.

I don't care if I appear ungrateful to the people who saved my life and have been helping me adjust to this one. No matter what's ever happened to me Mom's always been there and I won't apologise for wanting, needing, to return the favour.

"Rose explained to me what happened." Carlisle says with quiet sympathy. "And I have read Garrett's messages to her. It is not as bad as you think."

"Can I see them?" I ask.

"Yes, if you come home with us, of course you can."

"We were never trying to keep anything from you." Rose assures me, Em grinning in agreement. "We just didn't want you to see anything that would upset you like this. We told you she was okay because she is."

I blow out a breath. I want to believe them, of course I do. I'm so out of my depth at the moment I don't want to lose my anchor. And I really, really, don't want there to be anything wrong with Mom.

"I have known Garrett for over a hundred years." Carlisle states, hunkering down to my level. "He is the one I trusted to look out for your Mother. Not least because he's a friend to the whole family, he probably talks more to Rosalie and Emmett than he does me these days. Would you like to see the text messages he sent _me_ about your Mother?"

I nod quickly and he fishes his cell out of his pocket and fiddles with it for a moment before handing it over.

Quickly I scroll down the lengthy exchange.

'_**Found her. She's a beautiful woman. Can't believe Edward left her. G.'**_

'_**Is she alright? C.'**_

'_**Seems to be physically okay. You never said the dog would stink this much.'**_

'_**You get used to it. Are you sure she's okay?'**_

'_**I've never met her before C. I can't really tell. If she smiles I'll let you know.'**_

'_**I should come back.'**_

'_**Jasper's right C. She's surviving. Her people are looking out for her. And I won't let anything happen to her. Give it time.'**_

'_**Thank you Garrett. I owe you one.'**_

'_**That's what friends are for C.'**_

…_.._

'_**Your Edward really fucked up.'**_

'_**What do you mean? Is she alright?'**_

'_**She's miserable C. And she talks in her sleep.'**_

…_.._

'_**I spoke to the dog. We have an understanding but he wants to know where the fuck you are and why you haven't been in contact with Bella.'**_

'_**What did you tell him?'**_

'_**I explained the plan. He looked like he wanted to bite me but managed to restrain himself.'**_

'_**How is she?'**_

'_**Jesus C. If there's anything wrong I'll tell you.'**_

'_**Sorry. I hate doing this to her.'**_

'_**It's the right thing under the circumstances what with that newborn kicking off in Nebraska and The V over here snooping around.'**_

"The Volturi were here?" I gasp.

"Yes." Jazz answers. "The month before you 'died'. We didn't know at the time but one of my friends told us later. It's one of the reasons we've been so cautious about contact with Bella."

"You could have told me." I huff. "I would have understood."

"Agreed." He says and I gape at him for a moment before returning my attention to Carlisle's mobile.

'_**How is she?'**_

'_**Same as she was an hour ago. Working hard.'**_

…_.._

'_**How is she?'**_

'_**She's sleeping.'**_

'_**Is she alone?'**_

'_**Yes.'**_

…_.._

'_**I'm kind of in awe of her C.'**_

'_**Why? What's happening? Is she alright?'**_

'_**Don't panic old man.'**_

'_**WHAT'S HAPPENING?'**_

'_**Is that Caps Lock or are you shouting at me?'**_

'_**Garrett.'**_

'_**She's not a happy bunny but she's still got time for everyone else. It's kind of impressive.'**_

'_**Do they know that, are they taking care of her properly?'**_

'_**Yes C.'**_

…_.._

'_**The dog's leaving at the end of the week. She cried.'**_

There was no response to that one and I flick a glance at Carlisle.

He can't see what I'm reading but he speaks up anyway.

"Sometimes I call him, after he texts."

"Jake's gone." I murmur, noting the date.

"Yes."

I nod and then return my attention to the cell.

'_**How is she?'**_

'_**Watching True Blood.'**_

'_**Is she okay?'**_

'_**The bossy one made her eat something and gave her a pep talk. She told her to fuck off. She'll live.'**_

I snort back laughter because I can picture the moment and the look on Bren's face. Tolerance and pride. Mom almost never tells anyone what she really thinks.

I carry on scrolling through the messages, there's an exchange every single day. Some make me smile and some have me gasping and worrying . . . .

'_**I bumped into her today.'**_

'_**What?'**_

'_**She's a slow walker, even for a human.'**_

'_**Garrett!'**_

'_**Don't worry. She didn't realise what I was.'**_

'_**She's neither stupid nor unobservant.'**_

'_**I know she's not stupid C. Beautiful and intelligent.'**_

There's no reply to that one and I glance at Carlisle again before continuing until I come to the end.

'_**She cries a lot C.'**_

'_**I should come back.'**_

'_**Call me . . . .'**_

That last one was dated yesterday.

"I don't understand." I admit.

Some things I do. But others, like whether or not Mom's really okay, I don't. His messages to Rose on Facebook . . . .

"She's okay Freya." Carlisle assures me, laying a hand gently on my knee. "Come home and read the messages Garrett sent to Rosalie. They will explain a great deal more."

I don't respond, deep in thought.

"Goddess." Em urges, also dropping down in front of me. "Garrett can be a complete dick. Come home and read the messages. If I thought Bells was in danger I'd have been a hundred miles or so ahead of you."

I want to make a joke about how slowly his bulky ass can actually move but I don't have it in me. However, I do trust him and so I emit a small sigh of defeat. Just a small one, which seems to amuse Jazz for some reason.

And because a moment's hesitation is a lifetime's capitulation to Em, he has me on my feet and heading back north before I can even blink . . . .

…_.._

Nobody suggests I shower or clean myself up.

Instead Rose takes my hand and leads me through my latest hole in the wall, dropping into the chair in front of the computer but not releasing me. Which I'm kind of grateful for.

It takes a few seconds for her to bring up her Facebook page and scroll to the start of the 'Suicide Watch' thread and I'm aware of the others crowded round us, waiting with me.

'_**So what's the deal toots? Why am I here on Suicide Watch?'**_

'_**You know why and don't be fucking stupid.'**_

'_**Fine. I'm bored.'**_

'_**At least you're not in Alaska.'**_

'_**Point taken.'**_

…_.._

'_**Where's Edward? Shouldn't he be doing this gig?'**_

'_**Still bored?'**_

'_**She's no party animal.'**_

'_**Never was. Just look after her, okay?'**_

'_**Not hard, she's not doing an awful except work, sleep and stare and the TV . . . .'**_

'_**How bad?'**_

'_**What am I, the human expert? I just eat 'em toots.'**_

'_**How are you getting on with the dog?'**_

'_**He ain't dead.'**_

'_**Lol'**_

…_.._

'_**I'm so bored. The food here tastes like coal.'**_

…_.._

'_**How's the daughter doing?'**_

'_**Destroying my life and my house.'**_

'_**Ah Rosie, you're so warm and fuzzy. No wonder Emmy Bear loves you . . . .'**_

'_**Fuck off.'**_

…..

'_**She's pretty entertaining when she talks in her sleep.'**_

'_**Is she okay?'**_

'_**You sound like Carlisle.'**_

'_**Whatever. Is she?'**_

'_**She's not in any danger toots but she's kind of making me depressed.'**_

'_**What do you expect? We have her daughter.'**_

'_**You sound like a kidnapper.'**_

'_**I fucking feel like one. Em's going demented.'**_

'_**Em's always been demented.'**_

'_**Just take care of her Garrett and let me know if we need to come.'**_

…..

'_**Tell me about her.'**_

'_**You should know more about her by now than I do.'**_

'_**Lol. Your brother's an idiot.'**_

'_**This I already know.'**_

'_**What's he up to?'**_

'_**Drowning in his misery by the sound of it. I can't get him to come home.'**_

'_**Worried about him?'**_

"Garrett and I talk on the phone too." Rose supplies, scrolling down so I can read on.

'_**She's kicked the dog into the curb.'**_

'_**I'm conflicted.'**_

'_**It was bound to happen. In fact I'm surprised he waited around for it.'**_

'_**I hate to admit this but he's been quite decent.'**_

'_**Yeah. If he wasn't so pungent I'd have been inclined to like him myself. Anyway, he's gone.'**_

'_**Was she upset?'**_

'_**She cried.'**_

'_**Did she make a mistake?'**_

'_**Not according to her sleep talking toots.'**_

'_**Call me . . . .'**_

…..

'_**How much longer?'**_

'_**Still bored?'**_

'_**Unfortunately not.'**_

'_**Why? What's happening?'**_

'_**Nothing. I feel for the poor woman, okay? And I think you guys have under estimated her. She's as tough as old boots. And I don't think talking to the daughter she suspects is alive and well but out of reach is going to improve her mood enough for anyone to notice.'**_

'_**And if she still wants to be changed?'**_

'_**I'll gladly do it myself.'**_

'_**I don't think either Carlisle or Edward would like that.'**_

'_**Ah toots, I wish you could see my evil scheming smile.'**_

I look up, unable to believe they're letting me see this.

"That was yesterday." I observe pointlessly.

"Yes." Carlisle answers.

"So she's okay?"

"No better or worse. Jasper has a plan, if you'd like to hear it?"

My eyes dart to Jazz's and he manages something like a reassuring smile. Which is scary enough to make me swallow.

…..

We plotted late into the night and Carlisle, Em and Rose left in the morning.

Jazz put up with my relentless pacing for an hour to two and then forced me out of the house to hunt.

Then he helped me fix my latest indiscretion because repairing stuff is strangely therapeutic.

"How long?" I ask when we're done.

"Another couple of hours." He replies without bothering to check his watch.

"We could have just called her." I fret.

To my intense surprise his hand falls gently on my shoulder.

"We've waited this long. It's better to remain cautious than throw it all away at the end."

"She's not your Mom." I huff, avoiding his eyes.

"Would you like to see something?" He asks suddenly.

"Um, I guess?"

"Wait here."

He darts away to his room, the one I've taken to calling the bat cave because nobody would dare go in there, and returns in moments with a photograph.

He hands it to me and I take it carefully, afraid of tearing it.

It's Mom, standing in front of a line of trees in what looks like a hayfield, being hugged by a tiny girl with short spikey black hair and the wildest fashion sense I've ever seen.

Mom, a really young Mom, looks embarrassed but happy, the other girl however, her smile is blinding and even the fact that it's only a photo can't hide the sparkle in her eyes.

"That's Alice." Jazz says quietly. "She loved your Mom something fierce, having her in her life made her so happy. We all loved her Freya, she was always meant to be a part of this family, Alice saw it. But we made mistakes. None of us can take them back, but we can try to make up for them, if she'll let us."

"Jazz, I . . . ."

"You can keep the photo." He says, turning and walking away.

I trudge down to the kitchen, something I always seem to do when I'm at a loss, and perch on one of the stools set against the gleaming unused counter.

God, this mess is going to be way harder to fix than I imagined.

I don't know how long I sat there staring at the photo before Jazz appeared and shoved his cell in my face.

"It's for you."

"Freya?"

"Oh my god . . . . Mom?"


	30. Chapter 30

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 29 Hong Kong Phooey**

**FPOV **

As Mother Daughter reunions go it lacked a certain something initially, I'd absolutely no idea I was talking too fast for her to understand me or why she was getting so upset until Jazz snorted in annoyance and took the cell from me.

"She. Hasn't. Learned. To. Talk. At. A. Human. Pace. Yet." He grinds out in super slo-mo.

Oh.

He hands me the little lump of plastic back.

"M…O…M?"

"Don't overdo it Freya." She laughs.

"Oh Mom. Are you alright? Where are you? Are you coming?"

Jazz rolls his eyes.

Oh.

"Freya? Are you okay?" She sounds worried again and I hear Em's booming laughter in the background.

"Yeah . . . . Mom." I swallow convulsively. "I'm . . . . great."

"Talk slow baby." She urges. "_Please_."

But I struggle, it's so hard, and there's so much I've been wanting to say to her.

Eventually I give up and just listen.

She's coming and that's all I really need to know . . . .

I finally stop grinning long enough to realise that Jazz has hung upon on his conversation with Carlisle and is watching me intently.

"What?" I ask, unwilling to let the censure in his gaze drag me down but unable to ignore it.

"She's giving up her life for you."

"This is where she belongs." I whisper, certain of it, but uncomfortable nevertheless. "It's what she wants."

"It's what she _wanted_ Freya. With Edward."

Who is not here.

He studies me for a moment and then seems to relax slightly.

"Anyway." He observes lightly. "You're a brave woman I'll give you that."

"Me?" I gasp, still thinking about Mom becoming a vampire, for _me_, instead of for Edward. "Why?"

"I wouldn't want my Ma following me around for all eternity." And he shudders theatrically.

When I flip him the finger he merely raises an eyebrow and wanders away.

…..

They say, old people that is, that a watched pot never boils, and an eagerly awaited Vampirised Mom is a hell of a long time coming too.

I know I'm driving Jazz crazy with my inability to sit quietly and wait but I'm kinda getting a kick out of the pinched expression on his face. At least he's got an expression on his face for a change.

With nothing else to do I worry . . . . a lot.

What if she's not happy with this life? What if he doesn't come back? What's she gonna do when I start college, the woman's a hobby free zone and she won't have her beloved Twilight to focus on anymore. Will she make me pick up my room? How's she gonna manage without Bren to organise her, will I have to start doing it? What about Dad, he loves Mom, just not in the generally accepted romantic sense of the word. I'm gone and now she's gonna be gone too. Who will baby sit the A Lots when Dad and Cath wanna sneak off for some alone time? What about Gramps, I'm not worried about Renee, it'll probably take her a couple of month's to realise we're gone, in the nicest possible way.

"Will you _please_ stop pacing?" Jazz huffs eventually, putting his book down so he can give me the stink eye.

"I need something to do. I'm going mad here."

"Do you _have_ to take me with you?"

"I don't like going places on my own." I shrug and he actually cracks an honest to goodness smile.

"Would you like to go hang around the town?"

I roll my eyes. Torture myself with waiting or torture myself with human blood. He sure knows how to offer a girl a good time.

"Can we go _into_ town?" I ask in best polite voice.

"No." He responds immediately. "We can go on an extended hunting trip after, you can't be here when they get back anyway . . . ."

"But . . . ."

"No buts. You know why. Two newborns in the same space at the same time is a recipe for disaster. You can see her after she's hunted."

I close my mouth and glare at him. He was most insistent, the newborn expert, and the others supported him. No Mother Daughter time until said Mother's slaughtered a herd or two of deer.

"You're no fun." I bitch, flopping down in a chair.

"So I'm always being told." He drawls, about as bothered as a rhino with a flea on its ass. "Are we going or not? Because if we are you need to get changed. All that caked mud is making you look more deranged than normal."

I swear, as soon as I'm allowed a phone I'm gonna take a picture of me flipping him off so I can show it him every time I see him and save the wear and tear on my digit.

…..

"Come on." He urges. "We can go closer."

"We can?" I ask in surprise.

"Yes Freya, we can. You're ready."

"I am?"

He rolls his eyes.

"I'd take you into the outskirts but not without back up the first time."

"Oh."

He doesn't wait for me to get over the hidden compliment and taking a deep breath I plunge down the trail after him.

…..

Feeling real proud of myself, he took us really close and I resisted like a mo-fo, I let him take me hunting.

He hunts very differently to Em. Em likes to wrestle his dinner. Jazz likes to stalk it for hours. Me, I just wanna drain it and get to the next course, even so it wasn't as boring as I would have thought. There may have been some drool involved. About as much fun as plank he may be, but he's still hot, especially when he's hunting.

When I'm finally full I realise we're a lot further from the house than we usually are and that's its probably deliberate. Which gets me thinking about Mom again.

I can hear Jazz moving about in the rocks below me, clearly busy with something, so I wriggle out of my puffy jacket and ball it up as a pillow, lying back on the bare ground to stare at the sky.

I know this is the right thing for me but I'm certain it is for her too, not that I can't see how it might not look that way. I wonder why Jake left? He was really into Mom and she seemed to like him. Is it my fault?

I sigh, rolling my shoulders until the earth gives a bit and I can settle into it.

I guess I'll find out, soon . . . .

A little while later Jazz joins me, pulling a battered paperback from his jacket and settling down to read.

"Will it be okay, when she wakes up, with just the three of them?" I ask him. "Shouldn't you be there? You're the expert after all."

"Garrett will be there too." He says, not seeming annoyed at my interruption. "And your Mom is the nicest, most mild mannered person, I've ever met. I can't see her being as badass as you were."

"I should be there." I admit after he's turned a page or two.

He sighs, thankfully not in annoyance.

"Do you remember your change?" He asks quietly.

I nod. Fiery agony? Deals attempted with the Devil to get out of it? Yeah, I remember.

"Do you really want to watch her go through that?"

"No." I whisper. "But I feel like I should."

"Freya." He says softly. "Fate's a callous bitch but sometimes she throws us a bone. Your Mom never had to see you go through it and this way you don't have to live with that memory either. Be grateful. The next time you see her you'll both be perfect, unbreakable and incapable of feeling physical pain."

Yeah Yoda, but what about the non-physical kind?

…..

After a couple of hours the sound of running feet jerks me to mine, hiding behind Jazz like the coward I am.

We both scent the air and I know it's a vampire, but had no idea I'd be so afraid of an unknown one . . . .

After a few seconds Jazz relaxes but I fail to do the same.

"It's Garrett." He says, dropping back down and picking up his book as if nothing happened.

"Are you sure?" I squeak, still hovering behind him, thinking about crouching down to hide behind him for good measure.

Jazz mutters under his breath and puts his book back down.

"Slow down." He calls fairly loudly. "You're freaking out the newborn."

The running slows and a full minute later I can make out the form of the newcomer as he walks through the trees, smiling and holding his hands up in mock surrender.

"It's only me." He chuckles.

Jazz gets to his feet again with a weary sigh and I slot myself in behind him, peering round his solid shoulder.

"Freya, Garrett. Garrett, Freya Cullen."

"Hello." Garrett says to me with a big smile as he draws to a stop in front of us.

"Hi." I manage back.

"How's it going?" Jazz asks.

"Not long now." Garrett answers, watching me with interest.

"Can we go home?" I ask.

"Not yet toots." He says, smile turning rueful. "Still a couple of hours by my reckoning."

He fishes a mobile out of the pocket of his jeans and waggles it at me like I'm some kind of idiot.

"Carlisle will call me when it's safe to go back."

"Jesus Garrett." Jazz gripes. "She's not _that_ newborn."

The two of them fall into easy, well easy for Jazz, conversation and I take the chance to study the newcomer carefully. He's about my height and Jazz's build, with dark blonde hair escaping a pony tail. He's wearing jeans, stout boots and t-shirt that's definitely seen better days and is infinitely cooler because of it, stretched sinfully tight over some world class abs. He has an easy, sexy, smile and a rich melodious voice. His eyes are the deepest darkest red, expressive, alive with amusement and framed by the longest of lashes. He's so . . . . manly . . . . and he smells like fresh picked tobacco . . . .

He asks me a couple of questions but I can't answer them. Rendered insensible by crush . . . .

…..

Eventually the pair of them lapse into silence and three of us sink to the ground, cross legged in a sort of circle, like a bunch of kids at a camp out. Minus the fire, the smores, and the lame singing.

The grown up vampires seem to be quite happy to make like rocks but my stupid brain has started working again and my knee is bouncing up and down like a jackhammer.

I want my Mom.

…..

The silence, by now dragging on my last shred of sanity, is ripped away but a nerve jangling shriek of pure rage, and we're all on our feet, looking round, at the same time.

Instinctively I edge closer to Jazz and he angles his body to keep it between me and the sound as it comes again, reverberating over the landscape and making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

"Fuck me." Garrett chuckles, seemingly completely unphased.

Several sets of running feet are approaching rapidly and the scent of vampire is billowing ahead of them.

Three I recognise and one I don't.

I don't know who else I was expecting given the circumstances but the small vampire that streaks into view is of course none other than my very own Mother. Looking supremely pissed off. And my first thought, out of habit, is 'Shit, she's seen my room _already?_'

Jazz pushes me a little behind him and I don't think he needs me to tell him that she's looking neither mild mannered nor nice at this particular point in time.

The Mom Vampire crashes to a stop in front of us, her head snaking from side to side as she hisses and rakes us over with her vibrant red eyes.

"Mom?"

Her eyes dart to me, held behind Jazz, and then they narrow dangerously.

Holy shit.

"Give. Me. My. Daughter." Her voice is low, unrecognisable, and just about the scariest thing I've ever heard.

"Jasper." She adds as an after-thought, cocking her head to one side as if she's surprised she knows his name.

Jazz, brave but stupid, shakes his head.

Mom's eyebrow goes up and I flinch, recognising the gesture, as Carlisle, Rose and Em slam to a stop a safe distance behind her.

"Um, Jazz, man?" Em offers quietly. "I'd give the nice lady her daughter if I were you."

"It's too dangerous." Jazz whispers, stepping fully in front of my body to hide it completely.

"Okay." Em sighs, backing up a step and pulling Rose with him. "But it's your funeral . . . ."


	31. Chapter 31

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 30 Momography**

**FPOV **

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." Mom whimpers over and over, her head in her hands as she rocks back and forth on the ground.

"It's okay." Jazz assures her with a groan, rubbing his shoulder.

I glance between them as my hand circles her back gently, still without words.

She ripped his fucking arm off. Like it was an overcooked noodle. And then proceeded to beat the ever loving shit out of him with it.

She didn't get buried in mud for it either, I notice.

"Bella?" Carlisle asks gently. "I really think you should hunt."

"Will that help?" She wants to know, looking up at him uncertainly.

"It will." He promises, offering her his hand. "Come on, Em will come with us, won't you?"

"Sure." Em confirms, stepping forward with a huge smile. "I'll show you where the bears are Baby Bells."

She lets Carlisle pull her to her feet and then turns to me, eyes questioning.

"I'll be at the house when you get back." I promise.

She nods, reaching out with surprising gentleness to stroke my cheek, then looking down at Jasper.

"I'm so sorry." She whispers.

"I know." He says, smiling at her with genuine warmth.

I watch as Carlisle tugs her gently forward until they break into a run.

"What fucking house?" Rose observes to no one in particular.

…..

"Shit." I blurt out.

Turns out Vampire Mom literally brought the house down, virtually intact roof nestling on top of the debris.

"What the hell happened?" Jazz demands as he toes the overspill from Mom's remarkably tidy wrecking spree. "Didn't she remember you?"

"Oh she remembered us alright." Rose grumbles. "And she remembered we'd got Freya. When we failed to stump her up immediately she went completely _mental_."

"Go Bella." Garrett chuckles, dropping down to sit on a chair that looked like it had been ejected, upright, from the rapidly collapsing house

"It's not funny." Jazz observes. "We need to know what's happening in Philadelphia. How are we going to do that with no internet and no phone signal?"

"We can rig it all up again." Garrett responds. "The dish is in one piece."

And he gestures behind him, where I spot it resting, like a cherry on top of a cupcake.

"And where are we all going to live?" Rose enquires icily.

"There are tents in the barn." Jazz mutters distractedly as he climbs the roof to inspect his beloved dish.

Rose's eyes narrow and I stifle a laugh, he's gonna lose his other arm at this rate.

"Like you'd ask Alice to live in a fucking tent." She snaps.

Oh shit, she didn't.

Jazz, his back to us, goes completely still for a moment but then his shoulders relax and he carries on inspecting the dish.

"I'd have asked." He says in an amused tone. "And then she'd have laughed at me, reminded me that I don't understand women at all and then danced off to get us invited to the Denalis."

Rose's eyes soften.

"I'll try." She offers. "But I don't have her charm."

"Oh Rose." He chuckles. "You can charm the birds from the trees when you put your mind to it."

"Yeah." She snorts. "The boy birds."

"Then call Eleazar." He suggests.

She smiles and then turns pensive.

"What if they haven't forgiven us for Laurent?" She asks in a quiet voice.

He finally turns to face her, his eyes conveying the understanding that as family he doesn't need to speak.

"We've let his go on long enough Rose. Maybe Bella's done us all a favour."

They continue to talk with their eyes for a moment and then Rose nods, pulling out her cell and strolling away into the trees.

"The Denalis?" Garrett asks. "Would this be the coven full of beautiful blondes Em used to tell me about?"

"Garrett." Jazz laughs. "They'll eat you for breakfast."

"Mmm. What a way to go." Garrett chuckles, relaxing back into his chair with his hands folded over his abs to stare at the sky.

Oh great, I groan internally. I'm jealous already and I haven't even met them yet.

Jazz shakes his head at Garrett's recumbent form and goes back to worrying his technology.

And I go back to fretting.

I can't describe how much better I feel now that Mom's here. It feels completely right. But I don't think I'm the only one that feels it. Despite the less than ideal start _everyone_ around me seems more relaxed. Is that why I was so certain it was the right thing to do? I've no clue. I just _knew_.

Idly I watch Jazz use his teeth to strip the torn wiring and his nimble fingers to re-connect it. In no time at all he's ferretted the laptop out of the chaos and set it up on the roof next to the dish. I think he may have come in his pants when it booted up. Strange man.

Rose saunters back.

"We're sorted." She says, looking mightily relieved. "They're expecting us in a couple of days when Bella's over the worst."

Jazz doesn't respond so she turns her attention to me.

"Come on Freya." She orders. "Let's rescue our personal stuff from the wreckage while Garrett pitches the tents."

"Why can't you do the tents?" Garrett objects.

"Because we are ladies." Rose snarls. "And you are not pawing through our underwear."

"Killjoy." He grumbles as he lopes off the barn.

"Pervert." She shoots back, prodding me none too gently into action.

...

We work in companionable silence for hours. Lifting the roof clear with Jazz and Garrett's help and then sorting the 'house' into orderly piles. Wreckage. Contents that can be salvaged. Contents that are condemned. Personal possessions. Clothes.

Every family member has a pile of things that need to be safely stored. Carlisle and Jazz's books. Rose's clothes. Em's video games and comprehensive collection of platforms to play them on. Edward's music. Esme's art tools. Alice's fashion drawings. All of it thankfully small enough to have escaped major damage in the abrupt collapse. Which I'm grateful for, it would have killed me to see any of their faces if we'd pulled something out that was destroyed.

Rose and I stow it all in the barn out of sight so that, in her words, Mom's doesn't guilt out and cause a scene. And knowing Mom as I do I'm only too happy to help.

By the time we're done Garrett's got all the tents set up, with grudging help from Jazz, and a roaring fire going in the middle of a seating circle he's created out of the neatly stored wreckage. I'm not a camper but it's kinda homey with the firelight flickering on the canvas and gambolling over the trees.

And with immaculate timing the hunting party chooses that moment to return.

…..

It's very hard to grant privacy among vampires, especially when one of them is likely to be considered 'volatile' as Carlisle put it, but somehow they managed to at least grant the illusion of it.

Off in the darkness Mom and I sat and stared at each for age, cataloguing the differences.

I was shocked at the changes I saw in myself the first time it occurred to me to look in a mirror properly but my reaction to Mom, who's altered even more, is far more relaxed.

Rightness.

She still looks like Mom. I'm guessing she's taller, like me, since the jeans she's wearing are too short and used to drag on the ground behind her sneakers before. Her hair is longer, thicker and with even more shades than it used to have, and I was always dead jealous of Mom's hair, the way it used to catch the light and shimmer. Her boobs, which she always used to complain were too small to be proud of, have woman-ed up to the change magnificently. And she's still curvy, the perfect, svelte, hour glass. Damn her. The boys at school always used to say my Mom was hot, which I didn't mind. And a MILF, which I did. I'm glad they can't see her now, the pervs.

But it's her face that captivates me, it's completely unlined. She doesn't look like a teenager again. But she doesn't look old either. She just looks . . . . absolutely . . . . perfect.

It's a little bit intimidating if I'm honest. What's a girl to do when your Mom is the most perfect, beautiful, albeit short, woman in the world?

I don't know the answer to that so I do what comes naturally, throwing myself into her arms and sobbing like a baby. Because whatever else she is, I know she's still my Mom.

…..

About ten minutes later she breaks the spell.

"God." She complains in her new, low, sex kitten voice. "This crying shit, sorry Freya, really sears your eyeballs when you can't make tears."

We break apart laughing and then snuggle back together more comfortably.

I fucking love my Mom.

…..

Of course she's _still _my Mom.

She wouldn't tell me what it was really like for her after I'd gone. Just that they all missed me, my funeral was awesome and that Maisie had vowed to call her firstborn Freya, not so great for a boy admittedly, but nice all the same.

She did tell me that she knew there was no future with Jake, no matter what my fate or hers, that she loved him, but not enough.

She assured me she knew that I was okay. Which my weird certainty tells me is a lie.

And I assured her that I adjusted just fine and the Cullens had more than looked after me. Which wasn't a total lie.

She wanted to know if I was angry that she'd asked the Cullens to change me.

I'm not. Not once have I ever wished for the alternative and I told her so. She hugged me tighter and whispered that she hoped I never changed my mind.

And I apologised. Explained that I wanted her here with me, as the vampire she was so clearly meant to be, and because I was too chicken to face this on my own.

She said she would never have wanted to be anywhere else.

I thought about asking her about Edward, explaining his absence, and then wimped out. Plenty of time for that later . . . .

In the meantime we did some more eyeball scratching crying, hugging, and catching up. Finally falling to comparing notes on what it's like to be a newborn. And I wasn't as surprised as she was when her hand went to her throat and she announced that she thought she needed to hunt.

…..

I like to pack as many courses as I can into my meal and worry about the aftermath later. Jazz likes to make a meal of his first course. Em prefers quality, bear, over quantity. Rose finesses her dinner. Carlisle practically apologies to it. And Garrett eats people, unapologetically I might add, not that it makes him any less sexy . . . .

Anyway.

And Mom?

Mom's a lethal pragmatist. She needs to eat, she eats. She doesn't spill a drop and she tidies up after herself without being asked. Then she moves on to whatever it is she feels she needs to do next. Unlike I was in the early days, she doesn't seem bothered about what the rest of us are up to, or whether or not we've got designs on her kill.

I can see the others watching her behaviour, unsure about it, until it's finally too much for Em and he decides to push the envelope.

She detaches her lips from the Caribou's throat and looks up at him.

"Seriously?" She asks, with Mom brow. "You want my half drained dinner? You're that hungry right now?"

"No." He says, shaking his head. "Just wanted to see how you're getting on."

"It's not rocket science Em." She huffs. "I can suck without your supervision."

Garrett laughs and then claps a hand over his mouth.

"Amazing." Carlisle murmurs, missing the joke entirely. "You don't feel the need to protect your kill Bella?"

"I'm a newborn." She shrugs. "It won't exactly be hard, will it?"

"Hey!" Em objects, pretending to be offended.

"And you're not that stupid." She tells him, wrapping her lips back around the Caribou's neck.

"You're remarkably lucid for a newborn." Carlisle continues.

She makes a 'meh' sound without pausing her pulls on the animal's neck.

"It's fascinating." Carlisle observes quietly. "She destroyed the house and tried to kill Jasper, but she isn't remotely angered by our proximity while she feeds."

Ignoring us Mom finishes her meal and tidies it away. Then she sits cross legged and looks up at us.

"I don't feel lucid Carlisle." She admits. "But I'm not angry. I don't think. I don't really know what I am."

She gestures around her with a helpless shrug.

"Jasper?" Carlisle asks. "Can you feel her?"

"Yes." He replies, rubbing his shoulder subconsciously. "She's frightened, excited, happy and sad."

"Then why isn't she acting on it?" Carlisle muses.

"She's a grown up." I blurt out with complete certainty. "I mean I feel like that all the time and I used to act out when I was a . . . . before. But now it's ten times worse."

Alright, a hundred times worse but let's not show me up.

"But Mom, well, she's been hiding that shit, sorry Mom, for _years_."

They all look at me expectantly.

Great.

"Um, I mean, well, she knows what she is. And she knows who she is." I growl in frustration, explaining isn't my gig. "Maybe she's just better prepared for this than any of us were."

Maybe she was just always meant to be this, I add silently.

"You know, she's just a coper."

"A coper?" Mom asks with a snort.

"I didn't mean it in a bad way." I apologise. "You just get on with stuff. You always have done. Carlisle says becoming a vampire strengthens what we are, and well, that's um, part of who you are."

That's enough, now I feel massively lame.

I hang my head in shame, practically jumping out of my skin when Jazz touches my arm briefly.

"I think Freya's onto something." He states.

Oh fuck me, as if this day weren't weird enough now we've wandered into an alternate universe . . . .


	32. Chapter 32

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 31 The Goddess of Poo**

**FPOV **

Apparently Eleazar, of the Denalis, is going to help us unravel the mystery of Mom.

Personally I think that's a crock of shit and the answer is obvious.

Vampirism enhances what we are and she's a Mom. Threaten me and you're in trouble. Threaten anything else and she'll think about it before deciding if you're in trouble.

She's so cool.

Not saying she's perfect.

The Mom brow and the temper, they've made it over to the other side. No doubt about it. But teenagers need boundaries, right? And so what if burying my kills is the new washing up, I can deal.

It sucks. But it kinda works.

…..

The last few days have been different but fun, despite the growing level of Rose's complaints about how we all stink and lack personal hygiene.

The destruction of the house seems to have given everyone a new lease of life. Even Carlisle's looking dishevelled and more like an actual vampire. His female patients would have a fainting fit if they could see him right now. Doctor Dazzle does the wild man of the mountains. _Very_ sexy.

I'm pretty sure the tents were just for atmosphere because none of us have been inside one, despite Rose's rude observations that we should be changing our dirty rumpled clothes regularly. Jazz has forgone shoes, he has surprisingly attractive feet for a man and Em's sporting some decrepit plaid shirt that he's somehow managed to hide from his wife over the years. She has my total sympathy on that one, dude looks like Paul Bunyan in it. Not cool.

We've spent a lot of time hunting, Mom's thirst is entirely normal, and indulging her inner newborn. Something we all enjoyed, even Rose. Smashing rocks, throwing trees, running, racing, jumping, play fighting, seeing who can shout the loudest. And yeah, it was always me that got over excited and spoilt it, getting buried until I calmed down. I appealed to the inner Mom on that one but she thought it was fucking _hilarious_.

When we weren't mucking around like teenagers on their first unsupervised camping trip we sat round Garrett's fire pit telling stories. Well, they did, Mom and I just listened with rapt attention, sharing the occasional secret smile and gasp of surprise.

I've been watching how she interacts with everybody, fascinated, and I realise now that while I know the story I don't know all the details.

Why is she so wary of Rose? She's politer to her, less relaxed around her, though Rose's behaviour doesn't seem any different to me. And Em, I can tell she loves how he treats her like his long lost kid sister, calling her Baby Bells and ruffling her hair whenever he gets close enough, but it seems to me like she's making _herself_ awkward over it. What's that all about? She's the most relaxed with Garrett, his shameless flirting and constant repetition of 'you ain't a blonde toots but I can make an exception if you will' has her giggling and swatting at him almost constantly. Seriously, it's the twenty first century, who calls anybody 'toots' anymore?

But it's when she's with Carlisle that I watch her the most closely. Much to Jazz's amusement. Because he and I don't really talk we've never discussed Carlisle having the hots for Mom but he seems to know everything that's going on regardless, and if I were less chicken I'd ask him if he can 'feel' anything between the two of them. Anyway, if there _is_ anything there, on either side, I can't see it yet. They seem comfortable together and they fit in some way, possibly because despite Mom only being a week old it's obvious who the grown-ups are in this odd little gathering.

…..

No one's really said much about the deal with the Denalis, other than to explain it to Mom, but as we trek across the wilderness I'm guessing it's on everyone's minds. Suddenly we're all quiet again and wondering what's going to happen next.

I'm excited to meet new vampires, who wouldn't be, but I'm also picking up on the worries around me. And if I can feel it, it must be worse for Jazz, which probably explains the constipated and forbidding expression on his face.

Strangely I can tell when we cross out of our territory and into theirs, something about the old scents which linger on the exposed rocks, and it isn't long before their scents start getting stronger. Five of them, sweet but distinctive.

And not long after that we spot a lone figure standing on a rocky outcrop, obviously waiting for us.

"Tanya." Carlisle explains for those of us who don't know. The coven leader of the Denalis.

Unconsciously we slow down a little, letting Carlisle take the lead as we approach.

She's a tall beauty with pale, almost white, blonde hair and the same honey colored eyes as the Cullens.

"Carlisle." She says quietly in greeting.

The two of them stare at each other long enough to make Mom and I fidget and then he opens his arms and she steps quickly into them to be enveloped in a hug.

"I'm so sorry." She murmurs.

"So am I." He answers.

Eventually they break apart and he introduces Garrett, Mom and I.

"I am so glad Rose called." She says warmly. "And that you are all here. We have missed our family more than we can explain and we are excited to welcome new members into it."

Mom and I link hands and nod, mutually embarrassed, and Garrett, ever inappropriate, laughs.

"I ain't exactly family toots." He chuckles, pointing to his red eyes. "But I'm still happy to meet you."

Jazz snorts and Tanya raises an eyebrow. I thought he'd offended her but her smile says not, as does the way she blatantly appraises him from head to toe, twice.

Mom and I exchange looks, and hers says I'll explain later, so I shrug.

"Perhaps the pleasure will be all mine." Tanya purrs and my eyebrows shoot up into my hairline.

This time Jazz's snort is definitely amused and after a moment's pause everyone starts laughing, effectively breaking the ice.

"Come on." Tanya orders, gesturing behind her. "The others are waiting for us."

…..

The vampire scents get stronger as we approach a timber framed lodge similar to the Cullens but on a far grander style, and with masses more outbuildings.

"No Irina?" Rose asks Tanya.

"She is visiting friends in Russia at the moment." Tanya replies.

"I do hope she didn't leave because of us?" Carlisle enquires earnestly.

"No, no. She has been gone several weeks. She knows you are coming though." Tanya says, stopping to put her arm on Carlisle's arm. "And she has promised to come home. She wants to end this awkward thing between us as much as the rest of us."

Irina. The one with the appalling taste in men.

Carlisle nods seriously and Tanya walks on, linking her arm with his, the rest of us trailing along behind with our bags.

"We do not move around as much as the Cullens." Tanya explains as the door the main house opens and three vampires assemble on the porch. "The locals believe this to be a rich man's retreat. Something we encourage with Algie."

"Algie?" Garrett asks.

"Our helicopter." Tanya laughs lightly. "We fly it in and out from time to time and make a point of never going into the local towns. The Rangers come to check that we're not defiling the local landscape every now and then. It has become a game for us to disguise ourselves although they rarely stay in the area long enough to realise we do not age or change."

"Tanya!" The statuesque honey blonde on the porch calls. "Stop hogging our guests!"

While Tanya is wearing a completely inappropriate dress with high heels, the vampires on the porch are all more relaxed looking in jeans and sweaters. The blonde, who must be Kate and the dark haired, smaller couple, Eleazar and Carmen, descend the steps and suddenly we're all in a round of greetings that start to dispel the lingering sense of awkwardness.

…..

Carmen quickly went into tour guide mode. Directing Rose and Em to a cabin a little way from the house and Garrett to one on the other side of the immaculate lawn. The rest of us are shown to our own rooms in the main house and told to come down to the 'Great Room', whatever the fuck that is, as soon as we are ready.

A hot shower and a change of clothes later I make my way downstairs, bumping into Carlisle and gladly following him into said 'Great Room'.

Which it certainly is. You could hold a school dance in this bad boy. However, someone has managed to make it comfortable, couches and chairs scattered around with side tables piled with magazines and books. There are lamps everywhere, heavy drapes drawn back from the panoramic windows and two fireplaces on either side of the room, both big enough to sit in if it weren't for the roaring fires. It should feel like a hotel foyer but it works somehow.

"Esme." Kate explains, laughing at my expression. "She had a way with design, did she not Carlisle?"

"She certainly did." He agrees with a sad smile.

"Come Старый друг." She says gently, tugging him forward by the arm. "You are in Russia now. It is time to remember without sadness."

…..

Apparently living Russians would get shit faced on Vodka under these circumstances, Kate explained that they're a naturally melancholy people who also manage to find great joy in life and excuses for copious drinking.

None of us could get drunk, and only Em was stupid enough to actually down a shot of Vodka, but I think I got the sentiment of what we were doing.

The stories around our camp fire had been about the amazing things these older vampires had seen and done in their extended lives. This night was all about what the Denalis and Cullens had done together and the celebration of absent friends.

Everyone was discussed, their qualities celebrated and their embarrassing moments re-lived.

Even though I never knew Esme and Alice, and have yet to get to know Edward, I learnt a lot about them that night. And Irina.

Mom and I sat on a squishy couch and together we laughed and cried our way through the whole thing.

Not that either of us got away with being left out. Em told stories about Mom's teenage klutziness and her crippling shyness. And she threw me under the bus in turn by telling them all about the time toddler me took a dump in the bath on Dad's watch and he caught me trying to eat it. The tale of how he tried to explain to the ER nurse why he'd brought me in had me laughing so hard my stomach almost hurt.

…..

Life with the Denalis settled down into a new kind of normal.

The sisters turned out, despite Tanya being a bit scary at first, to be just my sort of girls. And though they shocked the shit out of me on a regular basis, when Mom wasn't around, I quickly came to love them as much as Rose obviously does. No one's officially told little old me that they're nymphos but I'm not exactly chaste myself so I didn't need anyone to draw me a picture. And they don't apologise for what they are, they've got a bet going on who gets in Garrett's pants first, they wanted me in on it but I recognise I'm way out of their league. Or his, whatever. Anyway, Garrett seems to know what's going on and is playing along.

I'm still in the throes of titanic crush where he's concerned but not in a possessive way, I'm as keen as Rose to find out who gets 'there' first and the competition is as entertaining as hell.

For some reason it bugs the shit out of me more when Tanya makes goo-goo eyes at Jazz. He really loved his wife and it just seems a bit off to me. I seem to have appointed myself protector of his virtue but if he's realised he hasn't bothered to comment on it.

Em and Carlisle have taken on Mom's induction to the world of vampire. She keeps complaining she feels like she's back at school again, but at least she's in the honours programme. Accelerated learning and all that. They even dragged her off to the Rangers Station already. Without the teasing it seems. Anyway, she aced it. Not that she didn't confess to me afterwards that she'd never smelt anything so delicious in her entire life, including Bren's banoffee pie.

Amen to that. Its weird how I'm starting to miss food, even Em's vivid description of the effect it'll have on my digestive system can't stop the venom pooling in my mouth whenever I _think_ about a cheeseburger and fries. I know the reality is considerably less appealing, it smelt like shit to be honest, because I've BEEN INTO TOWN! Yay!

Okay, we only drove through in Eleazar's truck, with all the windows rolled shut, but still, nobody died or even came close. It went so well Em even let me drive back, not so great for the truck by the way. Still, fixing things is therapeutic, yada, yada, yada . . . .

…..

Eleazar is an interesting mix of mad scientist and latin lover. His devotion to Carmen is far more 'romantic' than Em's _blatant_ love for Rose, but the vibes are similar.

His thing is vampire gifts. Carlisle explained all about them, Edward's mind reading, Alice's foresight, Jazz's empathy, evidence still lacking in my book, Kate's electric current, seriously cool, and Mom's a shield.

Eleazar's gift is to sense them in others. Mom's he insists is obvious since Edward couldn't read her mind as a human and part of her 'schooling' is to work with him to understand how it's developing as a vampire. We know Kate can't shock her, it was tried under experimental conditions. She shocked a willing victim, Garrett in this case, who ended up on his ass, and then shocked an unwilling one, Mom. Who gave her the Mom brow and refused to let her try again. We also know that Jazz can feel her emotions. Eleazar's stumped but trying to work it out. As for her level of control, he agreed with me, she's just a grown up.

He thinks I have a gift too but none of us can work out what the hell it might be. I'm pretty sure irritating Jazz isn't a gift, no matter how good I am at it. I am also sure that if it's true it won't be anything cool, like shooting laser bolts out of my eyes, or being able to fly.

…..

The days tick by.

Super student Mom graduates to the same class as me. The Drive-By special . . . .

Operation 'Garrett's Pants' is starting to get just a little embarrassing for those of us who have to watch it. Boy can that man string out foreplay . . . .

Mom and Carlisle are spending an increasing amount of time together now her compulsion for blood is diminishing, heads together and talking quietly. Which must be _tons_ of fun . . . .

Carmen is helping Rose mastermind the re-building of the house. We're going to do the actual building ourselves but apparently the ordering of the right materials and furnishings is a critically important first step . . .

Em has _finally_ gotten bored of referring to me as the 'Goddess of Poo'.

And I _know_ everything's going in the direction it should be when Tanya announces that Irina will be back any day. Fucked if I know how though, her impending arrival has everyone on tenterhooks . . . .


	33. Chapter 33

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 32 Who'd A Thunk It**

**FPOV **

I'm scarred for life.

It was a tie.

Thanks to Em and Rose I'm no stranger to sharing a house with loving couples _loving_. But, ew, seriously. They were in a cabin a hundred yards away and the three of them might just as well have been in the room with me.

It didn't seem to bother the couples in the house but the rest of us made a quick exit and went hunting.

It's going to be very hard to maintain a crush on a man who makes sex noises like a 70s porno star.

Just . . . . _ew_ . . . .

…..

While we hunt, something that's starting to feel like a standard family meal but without the scrubbed table, we talk about what Irina's impending arrival might mean, and, how we'll beat a hasty and polite retreat if it all kicks off.

I still think it's a good thing, her coming back, but I couldn't explain why if you paid me, so I keep quiet.

In my innocence I thought we'd need to be gone an hour at most. Silly me. Vampires don't need toilet breaks or have anyone pounding on the door telling them to hurry up.

Jazz and Carlisle obviously know better. And Mom, well, she wasn't in any hurry to get back either, clearly I'm missing something . . . .

…..

All is quiet and in immaculate order when we get back.

But I know something's off. Rose is reading a book. A book, not a magazine. And it's upside down.

I'm not sure what I'm more certain about at this point. That I'm missing something. Or that I don't want to know what it is I'm missing.

_Ew_ . . . . times ten . . . .

…..

The Drive-By Gang has graduated to being allowed out of the truck, in a parking lot, and with a grip on our arms that would bruise a human. But still, progress.

Mom and I are clearly related since neither one of us will show weakness in front of the others, but I'll admit that holding her hand while I fight back the urge to slaughter a shit load of innocent people is a massive help.

…..

There's an air of 'end of vacation time' about the place. Sort of school on Monday like . . . .

Irina will be back in the morning and even the Denalis seem a bit unsure about what will happen.

No one seems to want to talk about it, and I've tried, the most I could get out of anyone was Em who told me Irina could be a bit of a drama queen and wasn't averse to being the center of attention. We were safely out of earshot so I pointed out that his wife has some similar traits. He just laughed, knocked me over and told me that's probably why she and Irina have never been close. Then he told me to wear a Kevlar vest and stand behind him.

…..

"I could murder a glass of wine about now." Mom murmurs as we hang back and watch the others hunt.

"Maybe if you tried forcing the Caribou to drink it first?" I offer, semi seriously.

I've been thinking about it a lot because Garrett says humans have different flavours that can be affected by where they live and how they live. For example, he's quite partial to people who eat a lot of spicy food and avoids anyone who takes drugs because there's a definite _tang_ in the blood. I know its gross but it's kinda hard not to be fascinated by it. I would love to ask him about it but at first I was too in crush to get the words out and now, well now, 70s porno star is making it impossible for me to look him in the eye, let alone speak to him.

Mom pokes me in the side, pulling me back from my thoughts.

"You know." She begins. "We're going to have to talk about the future at some point."

"Um?" I hedge.

"Not right now." She continues quietly. "With Irina coming back. But once the house is re-built. We can't impose on the Cullens forever."

I just look at her, gob smacked. I didn't see this one coming. How's anything going to work out if we leave? And I don't think we're imposing. Actually I _know_ we're not but that's beside the point. Is there something she's not telling me?

"Don't worry about it now." She instructs me, reading the expression on my face. "Just have a think about what you want. You've got to finish school sometime."

I open my mouth to object and then close it again. I hadn't even thought about that, I'm immortal, surely the upside's got to be dropping out of school and never having to go back, I'd even give up on the flying for that . . . . Normally I'd change the subject on her but I've got nothing . . . . My weird certainty about Irina's return has flipped on itself and all of a sudden it feels like a really, really, _bad_ thing . . . .

…..

"What's up?" Jazz asks, plopping down on the rock next to mine.

The others are running around below us effectively playing vampire tag. Its normally fun but I can't get into it tonight. And neither can the 'grown ups', Mom, Carlisle and Tanya are sitting on the rocks the other side of the giant geological depression we're in, talking about literature.

I gape at him for a moment and then muster a response.

"Just thinking."

"Does it hurt?"

"Funny." And, flip the finger. Please god I need that phone, in a couple of hundred years the poor digit will be completely worn out and I'll be reduced to poking my tongue out at him. Not an attractive look, which I have _never_ practised in front of the mirror . . . .

"So." He continues, laying back and lacing his hands behind his head. "What's the matter?"

"How do you know anything's the matter?" I drawl, following suit. "You can't feel me."

I love taunting him with that. He usually just scowls at me and gets deflected from whatever grief he was going to give me.

Not this time though.

"I can sometimes." He says quietly.

"Really?" I squeak, suddenly feeling a bit vulnerable and exposed.

"You blip in and out." He confirms. "Like a radio signal."

"Why haven't you told me?" I whine.

"I've been waiting to see if there's a pattern."

"What am I?" I snap. "Some kind of fu . . . . king science experiment?"

"There isn't one." He continues as if I haven't spoken. "And you're trying to deflect me. What's the matter?"

"I have a lot on my mind." I huff, waiting for him to make a joke out of it.

"What?" He wants to know instead.

"If you must know I'm worried about Irina coming back in the morning." I growl, knowing everyone else is worried about the same thing and hoping he'll take that at face value, maybe even give me some real information to work with . . . .

"Really?" He chuckles. "You weren't earlier. In fact you were the only one looking forward to it . . . ."

"How the fuck could you know that!" I object, realising too late what he's done.

He can't read my fucking emotions at all. Ever. But he's managed to get me to blurt out the truth anyway. The cheater!

"I'm trying real hard not laugh." He says in an even tone.

Fucker!

"I may not be able to read your emotions but as you've recently correctly identified my gift is an extension of the skill of reading people I had when I was a human."

"You played me!" I hiss.

"Like an expensive violin."

"I hate you."

"Yeah, you probably do. But stop dodging. What are you worried about?"

I lift my upper body so I can scowl at the back of his irritatingly handsome head.

To tell or not to tell. That is the question . . . .

…..

Morning has broken, etc, etc.

With no known ETA for the drama, everyone keeps asking for one and being told it doesn't exist what with car rental and the vagaries of when to take off on foot, we go about our normal business.

With one notable exception. Mom has a session with Eleazar and Kate, which means I do too now. The mad scientist thinks that Mom can project her shield over other people and guess who gets to be the great motivator of the piece? Yep, little old me.

I'm absolutely certain this isn't going to turn out the way anyone expects.

Certain enough to vocalise my objections.

And though I have faith in Mom I don't wanna get put on my ass by Kate's electrical current, even Garrett won't volunteer for that gig again . . . .

"Eleazar." Mom growls as Kate rolls up her sleeves. "I am warning you that I don't think this is a good idea."

"Kate promises to use her lowest setting." Eleazar explains again.

"Eleazar. Kate." I plead as I roll up my own sleeve. "This is a really bad idea . . . ."

"My lowest setting will only make you jump." Kate insists earnestly. "A little."

"Don't wanna jump." I mutter.

"_Eleazar_ . . . ."

"Bella. Really. It will be fine. I strongly suspect that instinct drives your gift. You _will_ shield her."

"And if I don't?"

"What damage can you really do my darling?" He assures her somewhat patronizingly. "Shall we begin?"

Mom locks eyes with me and grips one of Kate's bare extended forearms.

I look at the other one and swallow back my nerves, closing my hand around it reluctantly.

"Ready?" Kate asks.

I nod. Mom growls and scrunches up her face in concentration.

I haven't even finished opening my mouth to gasp when Mom rips Kate away from me and throws her unceremoniously into Eleazar. My last clear picture of the actual moment is of the pair of them being pulled out of Eleazar's study as if there were a couple of wires in the back of their shirts, mouths round 'Os' of surprise.

Part of the wall and all the windows went with them.

Mom did that sphincter loosening shriek again.

The noise of it all hurts my ears.

Then I am securely wrapped in the arms of diminutive Mom and being carried, at blinding speed, out into the wilderness . . . .

"I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay." I repeat over and over until she finally slows.

"I haven't been able to carry you for years." She laughs shakily, dropping into a walk. "Did I hurt anyone?"

"Mom, we're vampires." I snort.

"Are you alright?" She demands, stopping.

Behind us I hear everyone else stop too.

"I'm fine." I assure her. "It was a bit of a shock, literally, but it wasn't even painful."

"I overreacted."

"Maybe a teeny bit." I acknowledge.

She plants a kiss on my forehead then sets me on my feet.

"I told them it was a really bad idea." She frets.

"We both did."

"I don't feel right." She whispers. As honest a declaration as she's ever made that she's got her own struggles when it comes to being a newborn.

"Freya!" Jazz calls quietly. "Are you alright?"

"Yes!" I answer quickly as Mom's chest inflates with air. "Back off a bit."

Mom nods in thanks and the rest of them back off a step or two.

"Eleazar." Jazz enquires with exquisite sarcasm. "Are you suffering from some form of mental instability?"

Mom snickers and blows out the air she's accumulated.

I exhale in relief and start to relax.

Mom and I breathe in together.

New scents. Vampires.

I can't even react before Mom screeches like a banshee and pushes me behind her.

She's so short I can see the phalanx of friendly vampires arrayed behind us without moving.

My eyes meet Jazz's.

And then the Denalis make the mistake of stepping forward.

I swear to god Mom swells up like a bullfrog.

And then she freaks the fuck out.

Tanya takes one on the jaw, flying backwards into a massive tree and pulverising it in the process.

Kate pauses, which gives Garrett time to grab her sweater and yank her out of danger.

Eleazar and Carmen, still holding hands, hesitate too.

But with a toe curling howl of rage Mom launches herself at Eleazar, fingers crooked into talons.

"Please, Jazz, stop her!" I scream.

But it isn't him that does.

It's a beautiful boy with a head full of luxurious bronze hair that appears from nowhere and tackles her, wrapped securely in his arms, to the ground before she can hurt anyone, or herself.

There's a long, _extremely_ pregnant pause, finally broken when she punches him squarely in the jaw, with a thunk that resonates through the trees and sends him flying off to join Tanya in the fresh pine scented woodchips.

"Ah. Edward." Doctor Dazzle drawls in his best professional voice. "Welcome back."


	34. Chapter 34

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 33 The Prodigal Soul Mate**

**FPOV **

When everyone's been returned to their feet and dusted off there's a long, tense, silence.

Really, quite long, and quite spectacularly tense.

Eyes are darting everywhere but refusing to alight on anyone else's long enough to qualify as a form of communication.

Except Mom. Her eyes are fixed on her sneakers, her shoulders tense.

I'm probably not the only one who wanted to kiss Irina when she couldn't stand that none of us were commenting on her noble and magnanimous return a moment longer.

"I don't want to talk about it." She demands in heavily accented English. "I cannot bear to remember it. Let us just start again and forget my poor lover ever happened."

Now I want to hit her. Jazz and Carlisle lost their _wives_ you self-absorbed witch.

Kate catches my eye and rolls her own.

While everyone moves forward to make nice with the drama witch I collect Mom from her extended sneaker inspection and the two of us slip away, Edward's gaze following our every step.

Welcome home numb nuts . . . .

…..

"Are you alright?" I ask as soon as we're a good couple of miles away.

"Of course I am." She answers, mustering one of her 'everything alright over here' expressions. "I'm just embarrassed. For a second there I was planning to claw the flesh from poor Eleazar's bones."

Ah yes. Now we're in familiar territory I'm certain. My Mom, the master avoider. Really wouldn't a normal person at least make some comment on the return of the prodigal soul mate? I know I would. Still I knew this was never going to be easy. She's not going to pretend he doesn't exist is she? Cos that would be all kinds of awkward . . . .

I'm at a loss and we're both newborns, so while we're out here, we hunt. And yes, I buried my kill without being asked.

Mom was showing no sign of wanting to go back and I was starting to wonder how to force the issue when Jazz appeared.

He doesn't ask how we are or why we're out here, instead he launches into a surprisingly funny account of events after we left. Irina's wounded soldier act, rebutted by Kate who knew she was boffing a former fling of hers in Russia while she was there. The resultant name calling in a broad range of languages. Rose metaphorically ripping Edward a new one for going AWOL again. Carlisle and Tanya's efforts to calm everyone down. Irina hitting on Garrett and nearly getting her eyes scratched out by Kate.

"Jesus. Families." Mom laughs when he's done. "Shall we stay out here all night?"

"Nah." Jazz chuckles. "The troika of grown-ups is a man down. Carlisle and Tanya could probably do with your support."

"Jazz." Mom moans. "Do you have to make me sound so old?"

He looks at her strangely for a moment and then drops a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.

"You're not old Bella." He says quietly, holding her gaze. "You've just been on pause. Don't let your hang ups hold you back from being happy."

Her eyes widen and then she manages a weak smile before looking away. And I gape at him, which earns _me_ a mischievous wink and _him_ a scowl over Mom's head.

I guess he's my co-conspirator now but he's not exactly being forthcoming with the stuff I need to know. Still we're already moving toward the house so I'm not complaining, yet . . . .

…..

To say that things have become different is an understatement.

Carlisle and Edward have no idea how to behave around each other and at times it's painful to watch.

However, watching Mom dodge Edward, who is clearly unsure how to behave around _her_ but desperate to talk to her anyway, is a bizarro form of voyeuristic entertainment.

And the staring that's going on when no one thinks anyone's looking. It's a farce.

Leaving out the people who are supposed to be staring at each other, here's how I see it.

Em seems to be massively pissed about something and is glaring at 'poor' Edward so hard I'm surprised his amazing sex hair hasn't peeled right off his head and legged it in fright.

Garrett's always staring at Kate, and not doing much to hide it. Kate's more subtle about how she ogles him back.

Irina is always staring at Garrett. I'm not sure he's noticed she exists. And I'm not sure that she's noticed he hasn't noticed. If that makes sense?

Tanya, surprisingly, is always glancing over at Carlisle covertly. Edward she just blatantly strips naked with her eyes. It makes him cringe, I guess he can hear her accompanying thoughts. His discomfort seems to amuse her. And Jazz, who often has to leave the room to have a good laugh in private. Which in turn makes Edward even more uncomfortable because he knows what Jazz is finding so fucking funny.

Mom won't look at Edward, not even a peek when no one's around. It's like she thinks her head will explode if she makes eye contact with him or something. She'll talk to his broad shoulder if she has to, but that's about it. Her eyes, when she's not engaging with someone, are almost always on the floor.

Carlisle's fascinating to observe, years of doctoring I imagine, no matter that the person he's talking to thinks they have his full attention, I can guarantee that it's a three way split. You, Edward and Mom.

And though I'm pissed at Edward for his consistent Mom abandoning, it's him I feel for the most, strangely enough. It's like its torture for him to be here but impossible for him to be anywhere else.

Eternity is a long time, this I keep being told, but _shit_, how can anyone be expected to sort this mess out?

…..

Rose, Em and Edward have left to oversee the delivery of the building materials needed for Casa Cullen. And to do some much needed clearing of the air I would hope.

And once the humans are long gone the rest of us 'Cullens' will be joining them.

I'm not sure if I'm gonna miss the Denali Sisters or not. The drama witch definitely changes the dynamic when we're all together and I don't know if I like it yet. I'll miss Kate though, she's fucking awesome, as long as you don't actually have to touch her. Seriously, maybe Garrett's the teeniest bit strange . . . .

Garrett's staying here. Eleazar and Carmen have been teaching him to hunt animals, since he was starting to look a bit pale and drawn on a diet of mostly sex and no blood.

Carlisle did ask if he wanted to come with us but he wasn't having any of it. What he actually said was;

"Are you serious? Willingly move away from three nymphomaniacs? I ain't looking _that_ gift horse in the mouth. Even if I'll probably have to drink the fucker."

…..

When we finally leave I'm pretty sure everything between the two families is well on the way to mended. There were promises to visit when the house is finished and they seemed genuine enough to me.

Packing sucks ass but I grit my teeth and get on with it because the Sisters have given me some seriously cool clothes. Mom'll shit a brick if she sees me in half of them but that's perfectly normal as far as I can recall.

…..

For our own reasons, I guess, we're pretty quiet as we trek up to Casa Cullen.

Mom and Carlisle talked a bit about inconsequential stuff that I've no interest in, which left me with Jazz, mister talkative.

He looked at me sideways a few times and then started fucking chuckling like he could actually read my seesawing emotions.

So I slapped his chest a time or two and he punched me in the arm once or twice in retaliation, all without a word being spoken. It was so fucking school yard I would've called him on it if it weren't so effective at taking my mind off shit.

Dude's more than a pretty face rocking an awesome body, who knew?

…..

Arriving home and settling in quietly is not gonna happen. The whole place stinks of lumber and days old sweaty human. And then there's . . . .

"Baby Bells! Doctor Dazzle! Goddess and Grumpy! Come see all our hard work! We need patting on the _head_ because we've _covered_ for your lazy asses!"

Em, so classy.

"You'd better not have fucked, sorry Freya, with my dish Meathead." Jazz growls, dropping his bags and loping forward.

Carlisle chuckles and then offers Mom his arm.

"Bella, shall we?"

She accepts and the pair of them wander off to inspecting the supporting walls, or whatever ever else it is you do with timber frames, which leaves me standing with Edward.

Awkward.

He smiles faintly.

"Would you like to hunt?" He suggests politely.

I shift my eyes over to Mom but she's busy and clearly not about to rescue me.

"No thank you." I squeak.

"Would you like to talk?" He offers instead, studying me.

Honestly? Yes and I no. I'm not sure I've the brass neck to ask the questions I really want answers to, not yet anyway. But then what's the use being squeamish about it, he can read my mind, he already knows what I want to talk to him about. And that I fancied him in school. And that I'm feel kind of sorry for him. And that I look around me sometimes and want to kick his sparkly white ass. Oops . . . . white horses, pink elephants, Jazz's feet, quadratic equations, Alex Pettyfer . . . .

"Actually." He says, gently interrupting my careening thoughts. "You are very like your Grandfather. Charlie. I was only ever able to hear a little of what he was _actively_ thinking. You were the same at school, not that I realised why at the time. And you can attempt to kick my 'ass' if it makes you feel better."

Wow. He's one sad puppy.

"Mom!" I holler. "Edward and I are going hunting."

She turns round to look at us.

"Have a lovely time." She says after a moment, not happy about it for some reason but not enough to stop us. "And clean up after yourself. Edward is not your manservant."

"Yes _Mom_." I groan, wheeling away and breaking into a run.

…

I run until I get to the lake and then propel myself into a tree.

Edward leaps gracefully into its neighbour and the pair of us gaze out over the still water for a while.

Eventually he sighs, dropping his head to inspect his long fingers.

"Your Mother is better off without me." His velvet voice is so soft even a bird taking off would drown out his words. "I don't know why you think we are meant to be together but it wasn't true then and it isn't true now."

"You love her." I state, equally quietly.

"Yes." He sighs again, shifting until his back is against the tree trunk and dangling one leg off the branch, looking for all the world like a lion sunning himself in the weak light. "I loved my family, my human one and this one. But I had never loved a woman or even had more than a passing attraction to one. Bella, she was it for me the moment I saw her. I don't know how or why I ever managed to convince myself what I was doing was right. She was human, one of the best ones, she had never done anything to deserve being dragged into our world of death and danger.

So many times Freya . . . . It is very hard to watch someone you love get hurt . . . . but when it's because of you . . . .

I convinced myself that we could be together and I could protect her. I wanted to believe it so very badly. But when Jasper attacked her, over a paper cut Freya, the mildest of human accidents, I knew that I had to let her go."

"You wanted her to have a normal human life." I breathe, unable to take my eyes off his profile.

"I wanted her to try. I wanted her to have the chance to have a you."

Should I tell him he broke her heart?

"I know I did." He whispers, distraught. "I couldn't read her mind but I knew I was breaking her heart, I saw it in her eyes, the set of her jaw, the curve of her shoulders."

My heart twists in the pause.

"I was her first love. But I knew, I _knew_, she'd mend. She had such a good heart, anything else would have been a travesty. And she was always so strong."

"You followed her, for a while, didn't you?"

"Not all the time. And not, after . . . . you . . . . I . . . . I just wanted her to be safe and happy . . . . but it . . . . it wouldn't have been right . . . . not when she'd moved on."

Oh Edward. You poor, _stupid_, boy. Do I tell him? No, I can't, that's Mom's job.

"She's had her normal human life Edward. But she's here now, the same as you. You can't put her in danger anymore."

He just sighs and for a moment I fervently wish I could read _his_ mind.

"If you could go back, now, would you stay?" I ask when he doesn't speak.

"Yes."

"Because you made a mistake?"

"No." He closes his eyes and shakes his head. "Because I know now what it's like to live for eighteen years without her. I could never be strong enough to do that again. Can only be relieved that I was naïve enough to do it the first time."

"Is that why you've come back now?"

"It's less painful than staying away." He answers, looking at me for the first time.

It's a pretty harrowing sight to be honest. Something that beautiful should never look that utterly _heartbroken_. My eyes are stinging and I have to look away.

"You should be telling her this." I manage eventually, failing to hide the emotion in my voice.

He laughs sadly.

"She won't talk to me Freya, as I'm sure you've noticed."

"You haven't tried very hard." I point out.

"No." He confesses.

"Why not?"

"I love her. I want her to be happy, that's all I ever wanted. I don't want to force her to reopen old wounds." He pauses again, eyes focussing back on the lake. "And I'm afraid that if I do she'll send me away again. Forever. I'm not ready for that yet."

If this were a movie I'd spew up some nifty words of advice right now which would have him whooping with joy and speeding back to Mom as fast as his legs will carry him. She'd resist him, listen to him, admit she feels the same and then they'd dissolve into each other's arms in preparation for the most awesome sex ever experienced.

Instead . . . .

"Jasper is coming." Edward announces and I can literally see him closing himself off from me, everyone, again. "He's worried about you."


	35. Chapter 35

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 34 Not So Happy & You Know It**

**FPOV **

I'm still frowning and worrying my lip when Jazz appears in Edward's recently vacated tree.

"You know." He drawls. "You really can't fix other people's lives. It's not your responsibility and it's probably doomed to failure before you even get started."

"I have to try."

"Stubborn." He observes blandly.

"It isn't supposed to be this way. It was _never_ supposed to be this way."

"There isn't any grand design. Shit, sorry Freya, just happens."

I growl in frustration because I can't explain it any better than I've tried already, I just _know_ . . . .

He laughs at me and settles back against the tree. Where Edward was all lion Jazz is totally a sloth, how anyone so wired can look so relaxed and boneless is a mystery to me, he looks like someone's _poured _him over the damn branch.

I watch him, watching me, gathering my nerve.

"Just ask." He sighs eventually. "You're gonna chew through your lip in a minute."

"Would you have done it?"

"Would I have done what?"

"Left . . . . Alice . . . ." Please don't kill me, please don't kill me . . . .

Silence, one that my mouth feels compelled to fill . . . .

"You know, if you were a danger to her, you know, to keep her safe, would you have done, what he did, to Mom?"

Silence, but I'm all out of words, regretting saying anything and wishing I could look away from his dark gold eyes.

"I _was_ a danger to her." He says eventually. "I had a very different start in this life to you. I was a danger to her every day we were together while I struggled to learn to control myself and I was a danger to her, and the others, every time we went to school or took a stroll through the local mall."

"But you didn't leave." I whisper.

"I'm not half the man Edward is." He sighs, eyes burning into mine. "I'm a selfish asshole. She made me happy. Where she went, I went. Simple."

Another, even more dangerously personal question starts forming on my lips . . . .

"Don't." His voice is quiet but firm. "Please don't."

"Okay." I breathe.

Guilt makes me feel warm all over and I squirm on my branch. I've upset him, made him remember what he's lost.

"We should get back." He decides, sitting up suddenly. "Before they start divvying up the rooms and you end up in the closet."

Enlightened self-interest is a great motivator and I'm out of my tree, completely re-focussed, in nanoseconds.

…..

Turns out I had nothing to worry about, Rose made sure the new house had a palatial suite of rooms for each of us, and so what if hers was bigger than anyone else's, she's done most the work so far.

Seven vampires make short work of building a house, the Cyber Crims did all the electrics, Mom and I laid all the wood floors, Rose it turned out was the drywall queen and Carlisle the master of plumbing. He tried to teach me but it's so fucking fiddly I haven't the patience for it, and I still can't figure out what a house full of vampires needs a whopping eight toilets for.

The furniture's coming tomorrow and they're all gathered around Garrett's fire pit while the mature vampires decide whether or not Mom and I are safe to stay in the area. I'm not bothered so I'm lounging in my tent with my iPod on, flipping through one of Rose's magazines. Through the open flap I can watch them all without making it too obvious. Thanks to Jazz, who told me this morning that I was starting to look like some kind of demented stalker.

The tension between Edward and Carlisle is so strong even Mom's started to notice it, and I catch her from time to time flicking glances between the two of them, her brow furrowed. Rose told me that Em and Edward settled their differences like men while the rest of us were still at the Denalis, as in, they beat the crap out of each other and came to a mutual understanding. She didn't tell me what that was but I'm not worried, Em will tell me when I get him on his own, he's putty in my capable hands.

Carlisle and Mom seem to have been glued together at the hip but I can't for the life of me detect any spark between them. They're like some old couple who've been together so long the fire and passion have dissipated into easy friendship. Carlisle is attentive to her, more so than to the rest of us, but if he fancies his chances at all he's not giving anything away. And Mom?

I sigh and shove the magazine aside, watching her carefully.

She seems happy enough. But then she's always seemed happy enough. That's Mom. And I'm starting to think that woman is the world's most accomplished actress, even though she can't lie for shit.

If she knows Carlisle feels anything more than friendly affection for her she's not showing it. Neither does she seem to be aware of Edward's every effort to make it as easy as possible for her to stay here. There's trouble brewing there I just know it. Mom never wants to be a burden to anybody or cause any trouble, if she thinks she's the reason Doctor Dazzle and Edward aren't getting on she'll be in an even bigger hurry for us to leave than she is already.

She hasn't said anything else to me about it but I overheard her quizzing Jazz about how long he thought it would be before she and I could safely manage to live on our own without killing anybody. She wasn't as happy with his answer as I was.

Which is why I'm not bothered about mastering the massive test that will be staying anywhere round here when the delivery trucks come tomorrow.

…..

"Ungh." I groan. "If I lean forward blood's gonna start pouring out of my nose."

"I know." Mom moans. "If my belly could stretch now I'd be in your Dad's sweat pants."

I blink and she reaches out to clasp my hand.

"He's okay Freya. He knows how to be okay. He's got Cath and the A Lots."

I nod. I know. But I still miss him. He was an annoying potential boyfriend repellent, but I loved his big ass anyway.

"I think we're done." She declares, hauling us both to our feet. "Ready to go play with the humans?"

"As I'll ever be."

…..

Eventually everyone decided that if Mom and I gorged ourselves before they arrive we could stay on the rise behind the house and watch. With bodyguards of course. Which is why Jazz and Edward are here with us.

"Breathe." Jazz instructs us.

I shake my head. No way. I've been closer to humans than this already but it's too risky. I'd be down this piddly ass hill in seconds and out here in the middle of nowhere no one would ever know if I caused a scene. I can just imagine it and unfortunately my active imagination can taste it . . . .

Mom hesitates for a moment then takes a shallow breath and immediately clamps her jaws shut, her eyes wide. Edward steps a little closer to her, forehead creasing.

"You can do this Freya." Jazz urges me. "You don't want to kill anyone, that's all you have to remember."

I wish he could read my mind. I forgot to take a lungful of air before I stopped breathing and now I can't say anything. So instead I reach my hand behind me and wave it around, relaxing when I feel Jazz's big cool one wrap around it, fingers twisting with mine.

"Go on." He says, giving it a little squeeze.

I look over at Mom. Her eyes are still wide and she looks like she's struggling. I can just imagine what that scent, fresh, must be like swirling round her dead lungs, can she taste it in her mouth?

Jazz steps up behind me and places his free hand lightly on my waist causing me to shiver unexpectedly.

"You have to find out what it's like sometime." He says quietly. "I won't let you hurt anyone, I promise."

"You can do this." Edward says in his smooth velvet voice, moving up so that's between me and Mom. "You can _both_ do this."

And she looks at him, actually looks at him, for the first time that I know of. I can't see his face but hers is pleading and he carefully extends his hand. She hesitates, eyes still locked on his, then takes it in a death grip, scrunching her eyes tight shut. After a moment she starts to tremble and Edward's thumb begins to rub circles in the back of her hand.

I watch them, totally absorbed, until Jazz squeezes _my_ hand.

I tilt my head back to look at him and he winks, then nods his head toward the house.

Oh right. Homicidal maniac one-oh-one is still in session.

Mom's reaction is not entirely filling me with confidence but I'm older than her by a good couple of months, if she can do it then I ought to be able to.

Alright Monroe, just one little sniff . . . .

Because timing is everything in life my one little sniff neatly coincides with Mom completely losing her shit and I accidentally take a much deeper breath than is called for.

Fresh human is way better than stale human, even at this distance.

I wrench myself away from Jazz before he can get his arms round me and launch myself at Mom as she takes off down the hill, but Edward, who's got a whole 'Usain' Cullen thing going on, is way faster than me, locking his arms around her chest and dragging her backwards, hissing in her ear as she screams and thrashes.

I only get a second to register all that before Jazz tackles me to the ground, shoving my face in the dirt as he so often loves to do.

"Gemphf me, wasnph do fingf."

"You sure?"

I nod, grinding muck up my nose.

His weight lifts and I roll over to find myself caged by his arms, his hair hanging down over his hovering face.

I can hear Mom's howls fading as Edward continues to drag her upwind and my throat is burning with the power of a thousand fiery suns, but none of that's important right now.

"You have dirt on your face." He says in an odd voice.

I have no intention of breathing in the foreseeable future so I nod again as he very gently brushes it off, his fingers leaving alarming tingles of electricity on my skin . . . .

…..

We find Mom and Edward a little while later.

She's hunched over, knees pulled up into her chest, arms wound tightly round them. He's sitting a polite distance away and offers us a tight smile as we approach, standing with one last glance at Mom before he blurs away.

"Are you okay?" I ask, crouching down beside her.

She nods but doesn't look up.

"I'll leave you to it." Jazz drawls, sauntering away after Edward.

"What happened?" I want to know, sitting down and stretching my legs out in front of me.

"I couldn't resist it." She says quietly, uncoiling herself until we're sat side by side.

"It was a bit much." I admit with a shudder.

She laughs quietly and shakes her head.

"Jasper says it's going to be a long time before we can live on our own, especially if we want to live near humans." She says. "I didn't want to believe it before, but I do now."

"Is that so bad?" I want to know.

"Freya . . . ." She begins, a warning in her tone.

"Look." I interrupt. "I know this is kinda weird and a real test to the Mother Daughter dynamic but it must be hard for you, to be here, with _him_."

She opens her mouth but I plough on.

"And seriously, who else are you going to talk to about this?"

"There's nothing to talk about." She huffs.

I snort and the Mom brow jerks up.

I keep my nerves in check and my eyes steady until the eyebrow goes down and she has the grace to look a little sheepish.

"_Mothers_." She says after a moment. "Are supposed to dispense advice on love to their _Daughters_. Not the other way round."

I'm stunned, because frankly she's told me way more with that than I was expecting, but she recovers quickly.

"We can't expect to live off the Cullens forever." She continues. "We're flat broke, at some point we've got to figure out how we're going to make our way in the world. Twilight is gone, I left it to Bren since she loved it almost as much as I did and there wasn't time to sneak any money away."

"We belong here." I object, aware that I might be sounding a little desperate. "There must be another way for us to make a contribution. Money's not everything, you and Dad were always telling me that."

She finally looks across at me, eyes searching mine.

"You don't want to leave do you?" She asks softly. "I've been watching you, you're happy here, with the Cullens."

"Yes." I whisper. "But I won't stay without you."

For a moment pain flashes across her face, the same look I saw on Edward's at the lake, and then it's gone, replaced by the 'I'm happy enough' look that I know so well.

And I feel like seven kinds of selfish shit as she pulls me in for a hug and promises me that we'll find a way to stay, if that's what I really want, and the Cullens don't mind.


	36. Chapter 36

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 35 The Goddess of Misery, And Lingerie**

**FPOV **

It's nice to have my own space again.

Because I can fucking hide in it, like the coward I am.

I feel bad for guilting Mom into giving up her plans for escape. I can hardly stand to look at her as she bustles around being 'happy'. Especially not after Jazz, Edward and I hung around at the edge of our eavesdropping range while she had an incredibly painful conversation with Carlisle.

Yes he assured her that she belonged with the family and she always had. But I'm only now starting to appreciate how those assurances probably make her feel when they'd abandoned her anyway. I'd thought that words, the truth, could fix everything. But they don't. And I hate that I've forced into her into reliving it, understanding now why Edward refused to do the same. He's pretty pissed at me right now.

We'd listened to it all unfold, Edward and I spitting at each other until Jazz clapped his hand over my mouth and ordered us to be quiet.

She told Doctor Dazzle to stop apologising so he did. Then he held her while she sobbed herself out. I couldn't escape it and I couldn't look at Edward, I just couldn't.

Jazz clamped me against his solid chest at that point and I let him, not even bothering to take the chunk out of his palm he so richly deserved for his high handed behaviour, aware that my actions were hurting everyone and selfishly wanting at least one bit of comfort.

Em was finally summoned to magic up two new bank accounts, one for me and one for Mom. Each of us being loaned a hundred thousand dollars, repayable in one hundred years.

Mom, who is one stubborn woman, immediately wrote Carlisle a seventy five thousand dollar check to cover all the damage we'd caused. He ripped it up in her face and Em threw her over his shoulder, running away with her into the night.

Jazz wouldn't let me go after them but apparently it was okay for Edward to.

I kissed him then. Jazz, not Edward.

He didn't respond.

I didn't try to stick my tongue down his throat or anything so I'm really hoping he thought it was a simple peck on the lips, friendly thanks for all his support or some shit, and I'm sure in a couple of hundred years or so I won't be feeling anywhere near as embarrassed . . . .

In the meantime I'm taking a leaf out of Mom's book and avoiding him like the motherfucker of all plagues.

…..

After the delivery man debacle Mom wasn't massively keen on venturing into town again so I tracked Em down and bullied him into taking me.

"Wouldn't you be more comfortable doing this if Jazz were here?" He asks me for the bazillionth time.

"No. I told you. The poor guy's been babysitting me for months, he's sick of it and _I'm_ sick of it."

"How are you feeling?" He asks, changing the subject.

"Okay I guess." I rub my throat. "It's really painful already."

"This is the closet we've gotten without you holding your breath."

I nod, deciding now is the time to do just that.

I don't know where all the venom comes from, I'm like some freaky Pavlov's Dog, and it's hard to believe drool isn't actually running down my chin.

Em, takes a hand off the wheel and offers it to me.

Taking it I stare out the window. It's not just the smell, though god knows that bad enough, I can see the blood flowing through their exposed veins and even if I couldn't I'd hear it. It's my own fault it affects me so much I guess, I like to listen to my dinner before I hunt it. The wet thudding of the heart in their chest, it's like the vampire equivalent of picking your own fish in a restaurant. Believe or not some of them actually do 'sound' tastier than others.

Look at all those people, going about their lives, listening to their iPods, texting on their phones, picking up something to take home for dinner. Couples holding hands, workers on errands, kids making plans for when school finally gets out. It's amazing how much we can hear, even when we're just passing by in a truck with all the windows rolled up.

I'd be graduating soon, getting ready to party like there's no tomorrow.

I'd sigh but it's too risky, I might forget and breathe in.

"You wanna go back through?" Em asks as the buildings dwindle along the road beside us.

I shake my head. I'm done here and it didn't give me the sense of achievement I was looking for anyway.

…..

We're almost back at the house when Em pulls off the highway.

"What's up?"

"Nothing." I shrug, giving in to my moody inner teenager.

"Your Mom will be okay, she just needs some time."

I nod. I wish I knew _that_ for certain.

"You did the right thing." He says, surprising me. "I love my family, all of you, and I want us to be together. But your Mom, she ain't exactly comfortable being here. Not that anyone could blame her. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad ole Eddie's home and I want him to stay. But it's gotta be hard for Baby Bells. She's a flight risk your Mom, you know that right?"

"I know. Is that why you got in a fight with Edward?"

"I'm always getting in fights with Edward _and_ Jazz. It's a common form of brotherly affection where I'm from."

"Humph."

He sighs.

"I just wanted to be sure Edward knew that too. And that no matter what happened he wasn't gonna kick it off with Doctor Dazzle again."

"Yeah. That would _so_ not go over well if Mom found out."

He laughs.

"Your Mom and Edward, they're two of the most unselfishly stupid people I've ever met."

I guess they are similar in their way, I hadn't thought of that before. I bet she'd have left in a heartbeat if she'd have thought it would keep him safe. She almost did in a way, with James.

"Em?"

"Aw no, the all sweetness tone, I took you into town, what more do you want from me Goddess?"

"Would you ever be able to leave Rose, if it would keep her safe?"

He frowns for a moment and I can almost hear the cogs in his head clanging together.

"I don't know." He says eventually, looking a little helpless. "I'd like to think I would, if there was really no other way."

Then he smiles suddenly, showing the dimples.

"She wouldn't fucking, sorry Freya, let me though, so I guess it's a moot point."

He pulls back onto the road and we're soon bumping our way along the drive to the house.

Edward's waiting for us.

"How did it go?"

"Good." Em declares, heaving his bulk out of the truck. "She's a natural."

I climb down more slowly, not sure what to do with myself.

"I'm glad it went well." Edward smirks. "Because Jasper is spitting bullets."

"Pft." Em shrugs, unconcerned. "He's even more of an old woman than you are."

"You can tell him that in about twenty seconds." Edward chuckles.

"Emmett Cullen!" A familiar voice thunders, running feet rapidly approaching.

Oh crap, he really does sound mad and I'm not ready to see him just yet.

"Shall we?" Edward asks, gesturing to the treeline.

The two of us make a run for it.

"Thanks a lot Goddess." Em grumbles as the trees swallow us.

…..

"Where's Mom?" I ask as our feet fly over the ground.

"Hunting with Rose."

"Fucking hell."

"That's very nearly what I said." He laughs.

"I'm sorry." I blurt out, slamming to a stop.

He doubles back easily, his eyebrow raised in question.

"I didn't mean to upset her. I just didn't want us to leave."

"You have to give her time Freya. We all have to give her time. And let her make her own decisions."

"There's a massive irony in that statement, you know that, right?" I ask him dubiously.

"The others will tell you I'm stubborn, not that I don't learn." He sighs, shoving his hands deep in his pockets.

I don't know where my ease with him comes from. On the one hand he's technically younger than me, but on the other he's even more of a grown up than Mom and Doctor Dazzle. I'm not saying I agree with anything he's done, but I'll admit it must have taken some fairly weighty cajones. Either way I've no reluctance asking my next question.

"If she was in so much danger why didn't you just change her?"

Oh look, he's glaring at me. Waste of time Eddie, I've been glared at by Jazz, you're a rank amateur.

"It wasn't that simple." He groans, backing up and sliding down a tree until he's settled on the forest floor.

"Really?" I ask with epic sarcasm. "Cos Rose apparently just bit me a couple of times and we were good to go."

"Rose?" He splutters.

"Didn't you know?"

He shakes his head, somewhat amazed.

"There wasn't time, as she put it, 'to fuck about' and Carlisle was busy covering their tracks. So she bit me to make sure I didn't die. Mine is the only human blood she's ever tasted. I'm trying not to be offended by the fact she didn't swallow."

He throws back his head and roars with laughter.

"You're not to say anything." I inform him when he gets himself back under control. "I think she freaked herself out."

"I just bet she did." He chuckles, shaking his head again. "Does Bella know?"

"No. We're sticking to the official Doctor Dazzle story."

He laughs again and I have to admit the bastard's even better looking when he's happy.

Oh well.

"So. Why didn't you just change her?"

"I didn't want her to be a monster." He whispers, sobering rapidly.

"Monster? Is that what you think you are?" He opens his mouth but I give him the palm and my best bitch brow. "Is that what I am?"

"No, Freya . . . ."

"No, _Edward_. Is that what you think Mom is now? A monster? Is that why you won't tell her you love her?"

"Bella is not a monster!" He growls, getting angry. "And you know why I won't say anything to her!"

"She knows."

"What?!"

"Carlisle told her you still loved her. Not that he needed to. It was pretty obvious the night you materialised in our doorway. In fact it's pretty obvious every time you look at her. She's dead Edward, not retarded."

His powerful jaw works for a moment and then he hangs his head.

"She really doesn't want me. Won't forgive me."

Are you listening to yourself mister selfless and self-possessed? Because I thought you'd already decided that whatever she wanted, whoever she wanted, was peachy by you if she was happy.

Fuck, am I the Goddess of Misery, or what? I'm flinging the stuff around like dog shit . . . .

I sit down next to him, butting him with my shoulder the same way I would Jazz.

"You told her over and over that you wouldn't damn her to the life of a soulless monster. Then you left her. Now she _is_ a soulless monster. If you do nothing else maybe you should at least tell her that you were wrong about that."

"I wasn't _wrong_, I couldn't have . . . . done that to her."

Yeah, well, I guess you copped a break . . . .

"She's a soulless monster, you're a soulless monster, I'm a soulless monster, your family are all soulless monsters. Either we are or we aren't Edward."

The silence drags out until a herd of Caribou cross our path and then its every fast vampire for themselves . . . .

…..

Satiated we wander back toward the house.

"She did well naming you after a Goddess." He observes.

"Edward, you seriously need to get to know her again, she named me after a bra she totally rocked. She thinks I don't know, but Dad showed me the picture."

He snorts with amusement and then looks as constipated as fuck.

Yeah, that was a low blow, but I've _so_ got nothing else to work with . . . .

…..

"He's waiting for you." Edward murmurs as we approach the house.

Oh shit, so he is.

Stood on the steps, impressive forearms crossed over his impressive chest. All annoyed, blonde, male, hotness.

"What . . ." He starts in a hard voice.

". . . . the fuck ever." I respond, breezing past him on a fresh wave of Edward's laughter

…..

Rose yanks me out of my latest funk to tell me the Denalis are coming to see the new house and that it's customary in these situations for the ladies to try to out glam each other. I'm to start with a shower because apparently I stink of Caribou . . . .

I don't mind a good girlie session but Mom's not so keen so I was as surprised as all get out to find her already in Rose's room, rifling through her extensive nail polish collection with something akin to a look of wonder on her face.

There was an awkward few moments as we gazed at each other, three perfect immortal females in fluffy robes and slippers but then Rose broke the ice, Bren style, by demanding to know whether either of us were lucky enough to have waxed our lady gardens before we ended up dead. We were, and her tale of Em helping her with hers in the nineties has Mom and I rolling on the floor with unrestrained laughter, it took several months apparently and at one point, after a mammoth thirty six hour session, Em managed to etch a love heart in it.

There's love, and then there's Rose and Em . . . .


	37. Chapter 37

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 36 The Lady in Red**

**FPOV **

I'm not sure about this.

I've no weird certainty about it one way or the other, which is freaking me out since 'events' these days are starting to come with a feeling about whether they're good or bad. And parties haven't exactly worked out well for Mom or me recently . . . .

Nevertheless I can't wait to make my grand entrance, because as much as I loved girlie time with Bren or Maisie back in the day, the pair of them knew fuck all about hair and make-up compared to Rose. I'm not wearing much, just some mascara, a little dark grey shadow on my eyelids and a deep red lipstick, but it's still a whole lot more than Mom, Rose sat and looked at her critically for ages and then just handed her a clear lip gloss and told her to knock herself out.

Because I don't get tired I've been stood in front of my mirror, listening to my iPod, for hours.

Rose wouldn't let me wear one the outfits the Denalis gave me, saying it wasn't in the spirit of the competition. Instead she produced a dark red dress from her closet that she insisted was perfect for me. I've never been one for red but her taste is flawless, I look like a freaking supermodel. She spent ages playing with my hair before we finally decided to put it up, not something I've ever done before other than with a scrunchie. Dad always felt 'up dos' were for grown-ups.

Jesus. He'd have a shit fit is he could see me now.

I've got tape on my nips so they don't show through the filmy dress, not sure I understand why Rose felt it was important, it's not like I'm gonna feel the cold or anything.

I twist from side to side for the millionth time. Does my butt look big in this? Hell no, I know girl's who'd die for this butt, Rose shoved me into a thong so there's no VPL, just a round sweep that the fabric clings to slightly until I move.

The dress is perched precariously on the edge of my shoulders, more tape, dipping daringly between my unsupported boobs. I twist again, examining the expanse of my naked back, a little alarmed by the way the dress skims over the top of my ass. Even more tape making sure everything stays hidden, barely.

Dad's never gonna know about this but Mom sure does and she isn't entirely happy about it.

"It's too short." She objected.

"She's taller than me and she has great legs." Rose shrugged.

"She's practically naked."

Which is when Rose produced the roll of tape, snapping it like a pro.

I giggle, remembering . . . .

Mom's objections were short lived. If I came out supermodel, she came out sex siren. I've never seen her wear blue except for jeans but it really looked good on her. Her dress is as long as mine is short, and somehow way sexier because of it, voluptuous was the word Rose used as she styled Mom's hair to curl down, covering what the dress didn't.

Carlisle, apparently aware of the competition lent us both some of Esme's jewellery.

Diamond studs and a small diamond pendant, that's hanging between my boobs now on a thin silver chain, for me, and a choker of sapphires for Mom that perfectly set off her swan's neck and stellar collar bones.

Yeah. Something's gonna happen tonight, I just don't know what . . . .

…..

"Wow." Em breathes. "The Barefoot Contessa."

"Shut up." I growl as I descend the stairs. "No one here's got heels that fit me."

"We're so gonna win." He laughs, offering me his arm. "Cullen women rock."

"Isn't there a men's competition?" I ask as he guides me through the house.

"Nah, we're all winners already, besides poor Eleazar gave up years ago, nobody can do tux like I can."

He does look rather good, but maybe, then again . . . .

Clearly the boys have been hard at work while we've been pampering ourselves.

The yard is strung with twinkling lights, each one glinting off a ludicrously attractive man, seriously, someone remind me again why being dead is a problem?

…..

Kate descends on me with a squeal, revolving round me like a satellite.

"Wow. Freya." She hums. "Not bad babe. Not bad at all."

"You look pretty good yourself." I admit, taking in her shimmering gold perfection.

"Oh this old thing." She says with a wink.

"Don't believe it." Eleazar informs me as he and Carmen glide up. "It was delivered yesterday, by a _security_ truck."

Carmen, resplendent in a simple white sheath dress, snickers as she pulls me in for a hug.

"They started shopping as soon as you guys left." She whispers in my ear. "It was _very_ serious this time."

"Sure was." Garrett chuckles, joining us. "I've seen more dresses this week than I ever thought possible. Mind you, the changing in between was fun . . . ."

Kate jabs him in the ribs with her elbow, laughing.

I still can't speak to him. Seventies porno aside he's sex on a stick in a tux, even if he isn't wearing a bow tie, or the usual thong in his long hair . . . .

"Nice feet." He murmurs, looking down.

My toes curl into the grass.

"Very nice. Toe nails match the dress, classy toots."

I'm saved from making a fool of myself by Mom's arrival.

"Holy shit." Garrett gasps, breaking into an even wider smile. "There's a brunette I'd make an exception for."

There are too many growls for me to work out exactly who's reacting to his words.

Kate elbows him in the ribs again as he laughs and everyone jerks back into motion.

Tanya, a vision in flatly gleaming silver, moves to greet Mom, the two of them falling into conversation about the house.

Carlisle and Edward break away from their intense exchange to join us. Gold and bronze medallists in the tux stakes . . . .

Jazz stays on the edge of the yard, listening to whatever Irina's quietly telling him. She's wearing red too, it's like she's wrapped in a shimmering column of it, one ghostly hand escaping to capture his forearm and pin him in place . . . .

Rose makes a dramatic entrance a moment later, Em's tongue practically scraping the floor.

Well hell, she does look good in her little black dress. I guess we win . . . .

…..

Like most grown up parties I've been to the men and women drift into separate groups. I don't know what the boys are talking about but like every time I get together with the Denalis and Rose the conversation rapidly descends into the gutter, our laughter getting more and more raucous, even Mom.

"Someone should rescue Jasper." Kate murmurs eventually, directing our attention to the other side of the yard where Irina's practically trying to mount him.

"He's a big boy." Rose drawls disinterestedly. "He'll rescue himself when he's had enough."

"Perhaps he needs a little fun?" Tanya suggests. "It's been years and a man cannot live on bread alone."

"Edward does." Kate giggles.

"Jasper is not Edward." Tanya says, shaking her head. "I wonder about Carlisle though? He's a virile man, he had _quite_ the relationship with dear Esme . . . ."

Mom meets my eyes and we both pull 'don't want to know' faces. But they're nothing compared to Rose's look of pained disgust.

"Tanya. _Please_." She groans. "Some things really are sacred."

"Sorry dear Cousin." Tanya chuckles, looking anything but. "But it's fascinating, surely none of them can remain single and chaste forever, not even Edward."

"It's not as if you haven't been chasing Edward for long enough Sister." Kate snickers.

"Ah." Tanya sighs. "Such a beautiful man. Such a waste. And so much fun to tease."

Mom's starting to look distinctly uncomfortable so I change the subject.

"What's the deal with Garrett?" I ask, sending Kate and Tanya off into peals of laughter.

"Our poor stud pony." Tanya pouts, eyes glittering wickedly. "He won't play with me anymore, he only has eyes for Kate."

Kate glances over at the stud pony in question and then blasts us with an enormous smile.

"I like him." She admits.

…..

We finished interrogating her on her definition of 'like' at about the same time the men got done with whatever they were talking about.

And suddenly it was time for music and dancing.

Mom's face was a picture, that woman can't dance for shit and I can't wait to see if vampirism has corrected her timing issues . . . .

And you could have knocked me down with a feather when the stud pony, I mean Garrett, glided up and asked me for the first dance.

…..

"I'm pretty sure they didn't dance like this during the War of Independence." I observe as his hands flatten on my naked back, drawing me into his chest.

"We most certainly did not." He laughs. "Progress is a wonderful thing in my opinion."

I try to pull back a bit but he won't let me.

"Trust me." He murmurs, nestling his face into my hair a little. "Causing trouble is what I do best."

"Um, what kind of trouble are we going for here?" I whisper. "Because frankly I'm not a threesome kind of girl."

"Trust me." He insists as his hands start to roam a little . . . .

I look around, as much as I'm able in his iron grip.

Carlisle and Mom and twirling politely, locked in animated conversation. Em is laughing and successfully managing to dance with Rose and Tanya at the same time while Carmen and Eleazar sway together, totally absorbed, Kate and Edward dance expertly past. Irina is wound round Jazz like a snake but she isn't having much luck getting him to actually move, I think I can see his mule ears unfolding as he glares at me . . . . the miserable jerk.

"Don't look." Garrett orders quietly, sliding one hand up under my hair and nudging my head down onto his broad shoulder.

"Don't look at what?"

"You're so funny." He chuckles, pulling back so our foreheads are touching.

"Are you trying to make Kate jealous?" I demand in a suspicious whisper.

"Hell no toots." He shakes his head. "Wrong target entirely."

"Then what the hell . . . ."

"My turn." A low voice interrupts.

Oh brilliant, thanks a lot Garrett, you dick . . . .

He actually has the nerve to wink at me as he hands me off into Jazz's waiting arms.

Awkward much?

I fix my eyes on his mouth as he takes the lead and starts to move us to the music. Our bodies are even further apart than Mom and Carlisle's but we might as well be naked I'm so aware of him right now. At least I know what the nip tape was for . . . .

Oh god I'm so embarrassed. If only I hadn't kissed him, at least then I'd have the teeniest chance of pretending that I don't fancy his miserable ass . . . . thank god he can't feel my emotions, how much worse would that be . . . . he's just good to look at . . . . he's just good to look at . . . . its not like I actually like him . . . . all the time . . . .

While I've been fretting we seem to have gravitated together . . . . this is easier . . . . now I don't have to look at him at all . . . . he smells delicious . . . . I won't lick him, that'd just be nasty . . . . I wonder what his skin tastes like though . . . .

Alright this isn't good . . . . his fingers have slipped over the fabric of my dress and the pads are giving the skin on my back little electric shocks . . . . god I wish we had booze at this party, what I wouldn't give for a swig of vodka right now . . . .

"Relax." He whispers into my hair.

Jesus, even his breath tingles, what the fuck?

"I can't." I admit miserably and totally without conscious permission.

He spreads his hands out on my back, just like Garrett did, and pulls me all the way into his body. This time my head bends and tucks my forehead into his neck automatically.

"That's better." He murmurs.

Yeah, it _so_ is.

I close my eyes, leaning into him as we sway.

This man is going to be the second death of me.

…..

"Jasper, dahling." The heavily accented voice of the drama witch penetrates my little moment. "Are you ready to give me the tour of the house you promised?"

Jazz's hands tighten on my back and I bury my face deeper in his neck, scrunching my eyes shut.

Can you not see he's busy woman? Fuck off, go flirt with Eddie or something.

I feel her fingers brush my arm as they settle on his bicep.

Now. I'm not a fool. I know he's not really mine but we _are_ dancing rather close at the moment and that's just fucking rude.

He starts to release me from his arms and I see red. Figuratively and literally. One quiet word hissing between my lips. More embarrassment for later I suppose . . . .

Before I know it Irina's on her skinny ass several feet away courtesy of my forceful shove. And jesus, couldn't she have at least worn a thong?

Great. That's brought the party to a screeching halt. Everyone's staring at me.

Time to make a run for it.

…..

"I'm not apologising." I huff as he leans himself against the bottom of my tree.

"I wouldn't dream of asking you to." He says with evident amusement.

"Good."

Pause.

"I'm sorry if I put a dent in your plans for later or anything."

"I doubt being knocked on her ass will put Irina off." He chuckles.

Oh hello. More red. The red hot lava of jealousy.

"I'm so fucked."

Oh shit, I said that out loud.

He chuckles again, a deep rich sound, and I feel the tree move as he scales it, it's too late to run again so I shut my eyes instead.

"Your language is terrible." He observes, straddling the branch in front of me.

I shiver as his hand touches my hair, methodically pulling out the pins Rose so painstakingly stuck in.

"What are you doing?" I whimper.

"I'm a military man at heart." He says almost conversationally. "I like to have everything planned out well in advance."

"You didn't answer my question."

"It's a bit like chess." He says softly as my hair gives up the battle against gravity and cascades down. "I like to be the one who makes the first move."

His hands shake out my hair and then come to rest on my shoulders.

"Jazz . . . ."

"I didn't like seeing Garrett with his hands all over you."

Um?

"But I _did_ like the way you marked your territory with Irina."

"Of course_ you_ heard that." I groan.

"_Mine_." He confirms, breath bathing my lips as our noses touch, the electric shock breaking bumps out all over my suddenly warm skin.

His hands slide up my neck, fingers weaving into my hair.

"What are you doing?" I whimper again, too afraid to open my eyes, my own fingers itching to reach out and hook onto the lapels of his jacket so I can pull him closer.

"Making the first move." He breathes as his lips press firmly against mine . . . .


	38. Chapter 38

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 37 Cougars & Oysters & Bears, Oh My**

**BPOV **

"Red." Rosalie snickers, holding her hand up for Garrett to high five it. "Do I know my brother or do I know my brother."

"What just happened?" Carlisle asks as Edward and Kate help Irina to her feet.

Irina, the drama witch, as Freya calls her, opens her mouth in preparation for a good screech but Kate stops her.

"That was rude Irina and you know it was. She's only young, you should be a little more careful. And considerate."

Irina snaps her jaw shut and stalks into the house.

"What happened?" I whisper to Carlisle.

"I didn't see." He replies. "Jasper?"

"I'll go after her, she'll be fine." He starts to turn away.

"Maybe I should come with you?" I offer, stepping forward.

"They'll be fine Baby Bells." Em informs me, slipping his arm through mine. "He knows just how to handle her."

"Are you suggesting my daughter is a handful?" I ask him, raising my eyebrow and fighting back a smile.

"I'm _suggesting_ nothing." He chuckles and everyone starts laughing, tension broken.

"Come on." He says, taking me in his arms. "My turn to twirl you round the _metaphorical _dance floor for a bit."

I glance at Carlisle but he smiles and lets Em whisk me away.

"Am I missing something here?" I ask him suspiciously as everyone else couples up and starts dancing again.

"Nope."

"Humph."

"Jazz will bring her back. No harm done."

…..

"God." I huff, easing off my neck endangering high heels.

My feet aren't capable of hurting any more but it's a habit of years so I massage them for a bit anyway and then shove them in the cold still water of the lake.

I'm never going to another party again in my entire life. Ever.

Jasper and Freya came back after an hour, she still seemed a little wild to me but she shot me a look that clearly communicated that no mothering was needed, so I let her be. I should probably tell her off for attacking Irina but I hadn't liked the way she was mauling Jasper either, the poor boy looked like his head was going to explode.

I guess we all knew Irina wasn't going to let it go, the tension kept ramping up by degrees, eventually even I took a turn at trying to distract her.

Big mistake.

_Huge_.

Jesus but she's a fucking bitch.

The damage is done now though.

Of course I knew something was off between Carlisle and Edward, he'd told me in Pennsylvania that Emse's death had strained their relationship. And I wasn't surprised, how could I be, that Edward had left the family again when he found out I'd be joining them. In fairness to him he never once tried to hide the fact that he didn't want me to be a vampire. I felt bad, that I was driving him away, but I'd already decided to shoulder that guilt, for Freya, and it's not like it was going to be forever. He'd have been able to come back when we left to start a life of our own.

It freaked me out when he came home with Irina but he has a right to be with his family that I don't have. And I coped. Was coping. Freya and I had been doing so well, I was pinning all my hopes on our being able to leave earlier than I'd planned.

I knew Freya wouldn't want to leave but I was trying really hard not to think about it, eyes on the prize and all that. When we finally got around to talking about I had to woman up and face my issues.

I'm dead. Finally getting to be a vampire like I'd once wanted. Except I wanted an eternity of bliss with Edward, not an eternity of stepping round him awkwardly, hiding myself away from him, everyone. I know I shouldn't be hiding, I'm a big girl now, but I lived a whole other life after he left, pretending I was okay, and it's a hard habit to break. And no matter how much my head says I need to talk to him I don't have the guts to actually do it. I don't know why, it's not like it could get any worse could it? He already told me he didn't love me, that I was just a distraction to him, left me, even if he now decides to tell me I've got a fat ass and fish lips it's not going to hurt any more than it does already. And he's been polite, and mostly out of my way, since he came back. It's not like we hate each other or anything. I was even starting to wonder if forgive and forget would magically happen without me _actually_ having to do anything.

That fucking bitch.

As if things weren't hard enough.

I don't need to know that Carlisle and Edward got in a fight over me. I don't need to know that Edward was mad at him for keeping my re-appearance in their lives a secret. I don't need to know that Edward punched him when he read in his mind that Carlisle's feelings for me had gotten to be a little more than friendly. I don't need to know that they went at it like tomcats, hurling recriminations and accusations at each other until Jasper and Em broke them up.

"I DON'T NEED TO KNOW THAT!" I scream in frustration.

"Whoa, _Mom_." Freya laughs, flopping down beside me and shoving her shoeless feet into the water with mine.

"Sorry." I sigh, deflating like a punctured tire. "Just needed to get that out there."

"I'm sorry too." She says. "I probably should have told you."

"No. You did the right thing, nobody should have told me. Sometimes ignorance really is bliss."

"She's a piece of work alright. I thought you were gonna rip her head off."

"So did I for a minute. I suppose I should be proud of the fact I didn't."

She bumps my shoulder and then settles her head on it.

There'd been a pregnant pause and I'd hoped, really hoped, that they were going to deny it and tell her that she was a shit stirrer extraordinaire. But they didn't. They looked at me. Then they looked at each other. Then they looked back at me. And I _knew_ . . . .

I knew going in that this wouldn't be easy, but Freya is worth facing all my old demons for.

But what did I do? What did I do to deserve this? Was I a despot? A mass-murderer? A telemarketer in a prior life? Did I get someone who was about to invent something life changing out of the tub before they could fully grasp their idea, damning mankind in some way?

What did I do that I got to fall so irrevocably in love all those years ago? That there was never really anyone else to compare to that experience? That fate decided to shove him back in my face, but not in a nice way, no, in a 'too late now baby' kind of way. And I can't escape, I've got a daughter who loves this family every bit as much as I did. And, and, and this is really taking the biscuit, I get to find out that Carlisle, _Carlisle_, is contemplating the horizontal tango with me!

"Why me?" I groan.

"You're kinda hot Mom." Freya giggles, apparently reading my mind.

Carlisle, the night of the great bank account debacle, said I'm meant to be here, that I was always meant to be here.

But I think he's wrong.

Maybe I was once meant to be _there_, in the past, but this is a different place.

Yes, on the one hand, being a vampire does seem to fit. I don't feel wild and out of control, well, not very often anyway. I still don't know if I wanted to crack open a nice tasty delivery man or if I just couldn't deal with Edward's thumb stroking my skin, the ghost of long forgotten love. But on the other hand, nothing is like it was supposed to be. This isn't my happily ever after, it's Freya's.

Maybe it was never meant to be me, always _her_.

I can't just leave though. Because I don't want to be a killer and I know I'm a long way from being trustworthy on my own. Because my daughter, who I love, doesn't want me to. And because, despite all of the above, I just can't _imagine_ it.

I feel like that last piece of the jigsaw, you know the one, the bit that's clearly come from another puzzle but somehow, by mutual consent, you manage to jam in to complete the one you're on. The little black bit on the woman's smiling face. I don't know how to behave. Em insists on calling me Baby Bells and though I can't deny I like it, it feels wrong. I'm old enough to be his Mother. Hell, I'm old enough to be all their Mothers.

And that's not weird, at all, is it?

Maybe that's my place here? Momma Bear. And I don't mind. But, and call me selfish, it's not what I'd originally wanted out of my life . . . .

I groan again, flopping down on the ground so that Freya inadvertently falls on top of me, laughing as she snuggles into my side.

"What are you thinking about?" She asks.

"You really don't want to know." I sigh.

"You'll be okay Mom, everything will be okay."

She sounds so sure bless her young, naïve, heart.

But she's right in her way, I have to make everything okay, somehow . . . .

I've been over my every interaction with Carlisle, before and after he changed me, and it's there I realise. He's been my rock in this strange new life and I can't fault his behaviour at any point, but it's definitely there, I'm such an idiot not to have noticed.

And I'm even bigger one for caring how that makes Edward feel.

He left me, it shouldn't matter, to him or me. But I know that's not true . . . .

…..

Alaskan summer dawns as we lay there, turning us into glitter balls, an impressive spectacle I will never tire of watching.

I've mixed feelings about summer. Under normal circumstances I'd welcome the longer, warmer, sunnier days like the addict I am, but this summer means curtailed alone time for Freya and I, too dangerous to be left unsupervised when unruly tourists and other humans have no inkling they're traversing a predator's territory. The lack of privacy is going to be very hard just when I'm in need of as much Bella's Happy Time as possible.

And I can either spend the next months in a state of Awkward Bella misery or I can face it head on as Momma Bear and pretend I don't give a shit.

Option one is the path of least resistance but I won't be the only one that's miserable. Option two requires a pair of balls I'm not sure I have, but is probably fairer to everyone else.

_Jesus_ but it sucks to be a grown up.

What could I possibly say that would make this problem go away?

Nothing.

Just because I knock their heads together and remind them that boat sailed a long time ago, on the sea of human age, it won't magic away what either of them are thinking, feeling, or the tension between them. Though of course they'll get over it in time, I never bought into Edward's crap about vampires never changing, if you think, you can change, if you want to.

Maybe that's the key, time, it's not like I'm anything special and the longer we all live together the quicker they'll remember that for themselves.

I just need to buy time.

I can do that. Carlisle doesn't want me to leave so he'll be supportive of maintaining the peace, avoiding the issue, and Edward's been doing everything he can to make this situation easier for me already, without me even knowing there was a bigger _situation_ no one had told me about.

And then I can come up with a longer term plan, one that involves them changing their minds and forgetting about me, which is surely going to happen eventually. And actually I'm pretty sure I could help the process along . . . .

And if it doesn't work? Then there's every chance, sadly, that Freya won't want or need her Mom hanging around forever anyway. Renee and I have managed quite well over the years on intermittent contact, even though it wasn't always what either of us wanted . . . .

The world would be my oyster, right?

"Carlisle's coming." Freya observes, sitting up.

Of course he is.


	39. Chapter 39

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.**

**Rated M for several reasons. **

**Chapter 38 The Thinking Woman's Crumpet**

**BPOV **

My loving daughter abandons me and I sit up as he slows to a walk, shiny dress shoes appearing beside me.

"May I sit down?" He asks softly.

I manage to communicate my permission without huffing out a giant petulant breath, but looking him in the face is beyond me.

He sits and immediately starts twisting his hands together between his bent knees.

Yep. Awkward.

Two glorious immortals frightened to talk about their feelings.

I can't help it, I laugh.

And he chuckles quietly beside me.

"I don't know what to say." He confesses after a moment. "Except I'm sorry."

When I don't say anything he sighs, I don't want to come off as churlish but I don't know what to say either.

"I never meant for this to happen." He continues eventually. "And for your sake I should probably lie, but above all else I value you as a friend and a member of this family, and I made myself a promise, that I would never hide the truth from you again."

"Then why didn't you tell me yourself?"

"I care about you Bella, and I know you." He laughs quietly. "You aren't exactly happy about this development are you?"

"No." I admit.

This time his laugh is wry and I realise how that must have sounded.

"Shit. No. Um, sorry. That's not what I meant, I'm, um, flattered?"

Shit, no, I should have left the first comment alone, I don't want to encourage anything . . . .

"Shit." I sigh in frustration, wishing I had enough poise, or any type of poise, to deal with this.

"Bella." He says softly, long fingers wrapping around my wrist.

There's a polite tussle as I try to keep it near my body but after a moment he succeeds in wrapping his hand around mine, cradling it on the ground between us.

"Are you going to fight me on everything?" He asks, smooth voice amused.

"Probably." I allow. "I don't know where it's coming from to be honest, I usually go out of my way not to upset anybody."

"It's okay to be angry with us Bella, you have your reasons."

"No Carlisle, it's not okay, I'm thirty six not six, this should be easier and you've done so much for me, for Freya . . . ."

"We talked about this the other night." He interrupts, giving my hand a squeeze. "Nothing Irina said changes anything. You belong here with us. You _are_ a part of this family. Both of you. Please, work with us, don't leave us."

I can't promise him anything, eternity is a long time, but I'm not going anywhere for now, so I nod.

"I know it annoys you when I apologise and try to explain but there is something I need to say." He says carefully.

Oh god, here it comes . . . .

"I am truly sorry about my . . . . um . . . . ah . . . ." He sighs and out of the corner of my eye I see him shake his head ruefully. "I never thought I would be a drawn to another woman, it was a surprise, one I should possibly have fought harder. And Bella, I _am_ sorry, I realise how uncomfortable and disappointed this revelation must make you feel . . . ."

"Carlisle, I'm not . . . ."

"Please, let me finish?" He implores.

"Okay." I whisper.

"I promise you I will never do or say anything to make it worse. Edward and I, we both believe you belong here and despite our current differences, which pre-date your return to our lives as you already know, this time we were in complete agreement that nothing should be said or done to make you uncomfortable. I'm sorry that the 'wonder' that is Irina wasn't on the same page and if our attempts to protect you have made things worse. It was never our intention."

"Thank you Carlisle."

And I mean it, it's what I wanted, to be able to deal with it, avoid it, until it goes away.

He squeezes my hand again and without thinking I squeeze back.

We sit in companionable silence for a while.

"Is there anything else nobody's telling me?" I ask lightly when I've finished soaking up the calm of his silent presence.

"I don't think so." He chuckles. "We're fresh out of secrets and mistakes here at Casa Cullen, as far as I am aware."

…..

Freya meets us halfway back to the house, about as subtle as a brick, and Carlisle relinquishes my hand to go on ahead.

"So?" She demands.

"Daughters who abandon their Mothers to difficult conversations do not get to hear what went on." I inform her.

"Pft." She dismisses, grabbing my recently released hand in hers. "Spill."

"There's nothing to spill. Everything's fine."

"Did he declare himself? Did he kiss you?"

"No! Jesus Freya have you been reading cheap romance novels again?"

"No." She huffs. "I'm just nosey is all."

"Well nose off." I instruct her. "It's not happening."

"Fine." She shrugs and proceeds to give me a complete rundown on what happened after I left the party.

Interesting.

The Denalis are long gone and when we finally amble back to the house there's just Edward in the yard, taking down the lights.

His eyes meet mine and for a moment the world consists of just the two of us.

Him silently asking if we can talk.

Me silently begging him to let it go.

His smile is rueful as he goes back to what he's doing.

…..

"Stop it." I hiss, jabbing at him with my elbow.

"No." He chuckles, carrying on.

"Emmett, vampires aren't even ticklish."

"You never know. If I try long enough I might find a sweet spot."

I roll my eyes.

We must look completely ridiculous. A giant man feverishly trying to find the ticklish rib on a tiny woman who's as still as stone.

"Incoming." Jasper hollers from somewhere down the ridge.

"This is it Baby Bells." Em says, clamping his arms around me to hold me a little off the ground. "I've got you."

Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out.

For a while all I can smell is the ubiquitous scent of pine trees, and a little lingering truck fume, but then it seeps into my nose. Fresh human, about a dozen of them. It's a little out there as acclimatisation methods go but when I refused to back into town Jasper eventually hit on the idea of exposing me to humans as they whizz past on the highway.

Even at this distance it hurts, venom pooling in my mouth instantly.

I can see the bus now, and hear the excited chatter inside.

Grad students, off to plant squares and catalogue the Alaskan bug life.

Lovely, fragrant, juicy, squishy, grad students . . . . I should have brought some fava beans and a nice Chianti.

"Christ it really hurts." I complain, swallowing back the venom before it can dribble down my chin.

He hums in sympathy as the bus disappears around the bend in the road.

"Are you gonna go after it?" He asks.

"I don't think so?"

"Very non-committal Bells." He laughs.

"It's the most heavenly smell." I admit. "And I can almost imagine how they'll taste . . . . ungh . . . . but I don't feel like I _want_ to rip them to shreds."

"Of course you don't." He admonishes. "You lose half the blood before you even get started. You just delicately sink your teeth into their . . . . Ugh. Now _I'm_ thirsty."

"Serves you right. I think you can let me go now."

"You're a lame vampire." He complains, dropping me back on my feet without warning.

We settle down on the springy grass, this isn't the busiest highway in the continental US.

"You okay?" He asks.

"Wasn't as bad as I expected."

"Not the humans Baby Bells. About last night?"

"I'm okay Em."

"Good. I'd hate to think the drama witch had _actually_ upset you."

It's amazing how Freya speak is infiltrating the Cullen household.

"Though I'll admit I was a bit disappointed you didn't try to rip her arms off."

"You've a violent streak." I chide him.

"Nah. Just a deep seated masculine desire for girl on girl action."

"Ew."

"Incoming." Jasper hollers again.

"My lady?" Em says, offering me his hand with a flourish.

…..

Em and Jasper see me back to the house and then depart to do whatever it is they do when they're not watching Freya and I.

"Bella." Carlisle calls emerging from his study. "The Austrian Coppers have arrived."

"Great. I was hoping they'd be with the delivery guy I specifically didn't eat."

He laughs and gestures out to the yard.

"Want to plant them now?"

"Boring . . . ." Freya groans as she charges down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

"Not in the house!" Carlisle and I growl together.

"Fine." She laughs, planting a kiss on the top of my head and disappearing out the door like her ass is on fire.

"How is it that no one but us appreciates the joys of gardening?" Carlisle asks with a grin as we make our way through the house.

…..

I know it's really stupid all things considered but I can't help casting covert glances at Carlisle as we work.

What woman's head wouldn't be turned? The man could easily be every thinking woman's crumpet. Actually you really don't need to think about it, handsome doesn't do him justice and even in designer jeans and a cashmere sweater pushed up his forearms it's obvious that he's no mere metrosexual.

He's actually quite sexy.

Planting roses, we're planting roses here Bella, focus . . . .

"Crap!"

"Broken another one?" He asks, supressing his amusement.

"It's a design flaw." I huff, tossing the trowel aside and opting to use my far more sturdy fingers instead.

That's sixteen I've killed since we started work on the yard.

I can read a book, turning the delicate pages with no problems what so ever, I can dress myself, even the daintiest of lingerie has survived my newborn strength, but trowels? Trowels will be the second death of me.

…..

"Nice fingernails." Rosalie observes as I traipse back into the house later.

"Stupid trowel broke again."

"Carlisle's already asked me to order some more."

"Thanks."

"De nada."

"Where's Freya?"

"Off somewhere with Jazz." She shrugs. "You know what he's like, he's probably making her read The Art of War so he can do a pop quiz on it."

"Poor Freya."

"Something like that." Rosalie snorts disdainfully. "You might want to grab a shower and a change of clothes. Tanya's on her way over to eat crow for the drama witch."

_Brilliant_.

…..

Out of human habit I wander into the largely unused kitchen while I wait for Carlisle to come down. Tanya's already here and I can hear her talking quietly with Edward in the yard.

"It's completely unacceptable Tanya." His voice is hard.

"Edward, please, Irina has always been a law unto herself."

"You should never have told her in the first place."

"I'm sorry Edward, it was a lapse in judgement."

There's a pause and Edward growls quietly.

"No Tanya. I will _not_ feel better if I fuck you."

His footsteps blur away, Tanya laughs quietly, and I clap my hand over my mouth to muffle my gasp. Edward said _fuck_ . . . .

"There you are." Carlisle observes as he enters the kitchen. "Ready?"

I'm not, but I let him place his hand in the small of my back to guide me outside, a gesture not lost on Tanya as we emerge.

I take a deep breath, summoning up my poker face, my resolve to stay here, eighteen years single minded survival, Momma Bear and ten years' experience running a business in shark infested waters. I may be fuck all use at matters of the heart, and Cullen, but people with hidden agendas, those I can do.

"Tanya." He says, taking his hand off me to give her a quick hug. "As lovely as it is to see you again so soon you really didn't have to come all this way. You apologised most eloquently last night."

"But I didn't get a chance to apologise to Bella." She chides him, slipping her arm through mine. "How are you my dear? I'm so sorry . . . ."

"I'm fine thank you." I respond, sounding good and surprised at her concern.

"But of course you are." She laughs, squeezing my arm and winking at me. "Two men vying over you, what woman wouldn't be happy?"

"Tanya!" Carlisle objects.

"Pft Carlisle. We are all grown-ups here, aren't we Bella?"

"Of course we are. Carlisle, would you do me a favour and fetch the new rose catalogue that came with the delivery today, I'm sure Tanya would love to see it."

"Now?" He asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Now." I confirm, using Tanya's death grip on my arm to steer her away across the grass.

"Tanya." I murmur conversationally, using my superior strength and her stupid heels, to stop her breaking away from me. "I'm sorry to disappoint you but I didn't come up the McKinley on a biscuit. We only have a few moments so I'm going to be brief. Edward is not interested, you will leave him alone and keep your thoughts to yourself." I squeeze her arm for emphasis. "As for Carlisle, I have no idea, but if you want my advice I'd say trying to manipulate him into something is a colossal mistake."

She gapes at down at me, and I reach up, because I'm a short ass, and push her jaw gently shut with my finger.

"Don't fuck with me Tanya. Being shy and retiring is not the same thing as lacking a spine."

"Bella." She gushes, regaining her composure. "You misunderstand me . . . ."

"Not understanding your motivations and misunderstanding you are two different things." I assure her quickly and quietly, sensing Carlisle's imminent return. "I know why you think you can use me and the current situation to get to either Carlisle or Edward. I just don't know why you'd feel that was necessary, or fair."

"Here you go." Carlisle says, proffering the brochure as we turn to face him.

"See Tanya." I tell her, releasing her from my death grip and opening it to a random page. "Aren't they beautiful?"

Carlisle slips his arm lightly round my waist, a gesture that I wouldn't have noticed before and conversation falls to safe topics for a while.

…..

"What are you going to do Carlisle?" Tanya asks. "You cannot practise medicine here so soon and it will be quite a while before Bella and Freya are ready to integrate with society."

"It isn't a concern Tanya. I've had to forgo the pleasure before and there are some options that would fulfil everyone's requirements."

"Bella, how do you feel about that?" She asks sweetly.

Ah. Message received but not understood. Or battle lines drawn. Carlisle and I have already discussed this, and painfully. I know my daughter and I are burdens, but welcomed ones. Jesus but I really can't be bothered to go through this in public . . . .

"We've already discussed it as a family Tanya, we'll cope." I assure her.

"Still, Carlisle, if you move, two newborns, and no one to protect you from all those nurses?"

Really? Dredging up Esme's ghost is helping you how? How fucking old _are_ you?

"I'm thirty six Tanya, I'm sure I can assist Carlisle with any over enthusiastic admirers he attracts."

"Tanya, really?" Carlisle murmurs. "I am sure one look at Bella would be more than enough of a deterrent."

Ouch, take a minute there why don't you . . . .

"You expect Bella to play _Mother_?" She asks him incredulously, casting a sly look at me.

Oh, nice move, if I wasn't way ahead of you . . . .

"I'm not expecting Bella to _play_ anything." He responds easily, his hand tightening on my waist. "The change has been kind to her and she can play out whatever role in life she chooses, from high school student to career woman. Or none at all."

Oh Doctor Dazzle, _smooth_ move . . . .

"Perhaps it would be easier to stay here?" She suggests.

"Possibly Tanya." He allows. "If it's what all the family wants."

She looks at me, pointedly, and then back at him with a slightly raised eyebrow and a sympathetic smile.

And frankly, I'm amazed. She's over a thousand years old, surely she'd know better by now . . . .

"I _am_ family Tanya." I growl, slinking my own arm round his waist protectively. "And I'm sure we'll come to the right decision between us."

Somewhere behind me in the house a 'hell yes' escapes.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm well overdue a hunt." I pull away from Carlisle, then pause, remembering my corporate manners. "Thank you _so_ much for coming."


End file.
